Scar My Soul
by 11Renee11
Summary: "...My weakness is that I care too much, my scars remind me that the past is real..." Scars, Papa Roach.     Scarlett Uley has her fair share of scars, but can her love of music & a certain wolf teach her that her scars make her beautiful? Paul/OC
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, its characters or its plot line; anything you do not recognize from the series, however, is mine. :) **

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><p><em><strong>Prologue<strong>_

_Scarlett's POV_

_When the sun sets in the western sky…_

Feet pounding the pavement, I ran. I ran from everything. I ran from my father and the scent of stale scent of liquor on his breath, from the pain and heartache I'd suffered at his drunken hands. I ran from the broken, empty home I'd been aching to leave for years. I ran from my mistakes. I could have fixed this—I could have kept things from escalating this far…but I hadn't. I'd been too scared and too proud and too embarrassed to admit anything to anyone. And now I was paying for it.

…_And darkness takes over…_

Things had never gotten this bad before. I was a tough kid. I could take a beating or two, no problem. It was hardly a big deal anymore. But this…this was brutal. Never before had my father managed to piece together such a colorful string of insults and beat me senseless simultaneously. I wiped the blood from a stinging cut above my eye, and kept on running, ignoring the drunken shouts and the sound of gunfire behind me.

…_I am left with just the chilly night…_

My dad did real stupid shit when he'd had too much to drink. Sure, he could be real nice when he was sober, but I hadn't seen him sober since before my brother moved out. Since that was nearly a year ago…well. You can imagine my dilemma. This was, however, the most reckless thing my dad had ever pulled while drunk. I heard the gun going off behind me, and I knew that I was literally running for my life. I kept my feet propelling myself forward with strength and endurance I hadn't known I'd possessed.

You know those movies you see, where the hero manages to dodge bullet after bullet without getting hit? Yeah…well, it turns out that's not how it works in real life. I found this out when a bullet dug itself into my shoulder. I hissed, nearly tripping over my own feet and tumbling to the ground. It hurt like hell…but I knew I was going to get worse from my dad if I didn't keep moving. I knew exactly where I would go, too. I knew exactly who would protect me, exactly the right person to call when things with Dad got way too rough.

… _And must rely on my memories of sunshine._

Dad's house was far behind me by now, and I was pretty sure he'd stopped chasing me—the thread of curses and threats had been getting fainter and fainter over the last three minutes, until they'd finally stopped altogether. I didn't stop, though. My father had incredible stamina for someone his age and in his condition. He'd probably tripped over a branch—we were in the forest by now, after all, and alcohol did have a way of messing with one's balance. Soon, he could very well be up and after me again, shotgun at the ready.

As I sped through the damp, dark forest, I let my mind wander for one crazy second to a day I'd spent with my mother, father, and brother in the woods, hiking. My brother had taken to the wilderness immediately, automatically clicking with something in nature that I couldn't quite identify with. I'd taken a little longer to warm up to the trees and the grass and the moss that clung to literally _everything_, but after a while I'd decided I liked the way everything smelled. So crisp and clean and fresh. It had been a good day—a happy day, a happy memory that I clung to like a drowning man to a life preserver.

_Then the color fades away…_

I shook my head. _Snap out of it. _Now was not the time to be getting caught up in my past. My past was exactly that—the past. It was over and done, and no matter how hard I wished I could, I was never, ever going to get that life back. My mother was dead, my father had fallen apart before my very eyes, and my brother had moved out the first chance he'd got—after my assurance that I could handle Dad on my own, of course. If there was a time where I needed to be firmly rooted in reality, it was now, with my shoulder drenched in blood and my heart ripped in half.

…_And the world itself seems still and dull…_

Finally, I reached the house. I paused for a moment, panting, out of breath. I raised my hand to knock on the wooden door of my brother's house, but it was already swinging open. Strong arms were pulling me into the house, and down onto a couch.

"Sam," I called out, my eyes searching the room for him. My vision was starting to get a little blurry, and my head hurt.

"I'm right here," Sam assured me, the palms of his huge hands resting tenderly on my bloody face. "You're safe now." I nodded. I knew I was always safe with Sam.

"Someone go and get Dr. Cullen," a soft, scared voice murmured from beside me. I felt Emily's gentle hands cover my own for a brief moment, and then she was gone, probably off to the kitchen to go get something.

"What happened, baby?" Sam asked gently, stroking my hair. "Tell me what happened."

…_I am left with the cold neutrals of the night…_

"It was my fault," I whispered, blinking rapidly as my vision swam in and out of focus. "So stupid…Dad…I just…I couldn't do it anymore, Sam," I whispered. "I just couldn't do it anymore, and I…I ran."

"Oh, Scar…you should have called me," Sam sighed. "You should have called me a long time ago."

"I know," I nodded. "I'm sorry, Sam. It's all my fault."

"Don't say that," he ordered. "I don't ever want to hear you say that, okay? It isn't true."

"Sam, it hurts," I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut against the pain. My shoulder was throbbing, and the cuts and bruises all over my body were stinging sharply. I'd been beaten before, but not like this. Not with an effing knife. Something must have happened at work that made Dad truly _pissed._

"Shit, Sam," I heard a breathless voice say above me. "Look at her shoulder."

Sam peeled back the torn, bloody fabric of my shirt from my shoulder and I hissed, squinting in pain. Suddenly, Sam jumped up, his hands shaking. "That asshole _shot_ my _sister!_" he roared.

"Sam, calm down!" Emily ordered from the other room. When Sam sped out the door, growling as he went, she instructed, her voice deathly calm, "Jared, Jake, Paul—follow him. Don't let him get anywhere near his father." They jumped into action, speeding out the door after my brother.

…_And my memories of a rainbow._

"Dr. Cullen, please," Emily was saying, ushering an unnaturally beautiful young man with stunningly golden eyes into the room.

"Officer Swan is on his way. He sent one of the officers down to Scarlett's house to pick up her dad," another voice called out from the kitchen, where Emily and Sam kept their phone.

The doctor knelt at my side, examining me. He caught my eye and smiled down at me. "You're going to be just fine," he assured me. He turned his gaze up toward Emily, explaining as he pulled out a syringe and a vial of liquid. "I'm going to give her a pain killer. Then I'll…do what needs to be done," he sighed. "She's had enough pain for one evening; she doesn't need to be awake for this." He caught my arm gently in his cool hands, turning it over and sticking the syringe expertly in one of the thick blue veins in the crook of my arm.

The last thing I saw was a set of sparkling, golden eyes, staring down at me with a sad sort of smile.

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><p><strong>Okay...so this is my new Twilight fic:) I know it's got kind of a heavy theme, especially at the beginning...but believe me, I'm a sucker for a happy ending:) And isn't there some saying somewhere that says that things are always darkest before the dawn? :) If you want more, leave me a review! I've got nine more chapters ready for anyone who wants them:)<strong>

**Penny for your thoughts?;)**


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: As desperately as I may wish I owned Twilight...I don't:)**

**So, I got a couple people saying they wanted me to continue this...so here ya go! Thanks a million for everyone who reviewed and put me and this story on alert:) YOU GUYS ARE MY MOTIVATION:) **

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><p><em>Chapter One<em>

**Sam's POV**

I'd never been this angry before. Not even that horrible day when I'd phased in front of Emily…that had been because I was young and out of control. This? Nearly phasing in front of my baby sister? That was unacceptable. I knew better now—I knew what kind of damage I could cause if I left my anger unchecked.

Yet, here I was, pinned down by my own pack. I was their Alpha, their leader—they were supposed to look up to me. I was supposed to be setting a good example, but I'd failed. The sight of my sister, bloodied and beaten with a hole shot through her shoulder…just thinking about it sent a shiver of rage down my spine.

"I'll kill him," I heard myself growling, struggling to get away from the three boys holding me down. This was so out of character for me. I was cool, calm, collected. This was Paul, losing control and shouting death threats. Not me. "I swear to God, I'll kill him if he touches her again!"

"Sam, calm down!" Jared barked. "She needs you to keep your head! We all need you to keep your head. Seth's calling the police, right now. Officer Swan will take care of Mr. Uley. You need to take care of Scarlett."

He was right—of course he was right. I took a few deep breaths, closing my eyes as I counted to five.

_One. _

I just wish she'd come to me earlier. Why hadn't she come earlier? I was her big brother. She had to know that I would do anything for her. I'd move mountains if it meant keeping Scarlett safe. When I'd left, to start my life with Emily…she'd promised me that she could handle it, that Dad was better. Well, obviously, he wasn't any better. In fact, it looked like my leaving had done nothing more than to push him farther over the edge.

_Two. _

I wanted to shake her senseless. What had she been thinking? That one day, Dad would put down the bottle and change his ways? That he would get _better? _Maybe it was possible, and maybe people could change…but Dad wasn't going to change on his own. He was too stubborn for that. I knew, because Scar and I were the same way. Stubborn as mules, strong as oxen. That was the Uley way, after all.

_Three. _

Now that I thought about it, I wasn't that surprised when she'd come knocking on my door. I knew that it would happen eventually. Eventually, Scarlett would realize that our father was too far gone for her to fix. Eventually she would get tired of being treated like crap. Eventually, she would come to me. Well, now she had, and all I could do was thank God that _eventually_ wasn't too late.

_Four._

Who am I kidding? I should have taken her with me, when I left. I should have fought our father for custody years ago. I could have saved Scarlett from her father, from herself…but I'd been too caught up with Emily, with the pack. Imprinting on Emily had changed me in so many ways. I'd learned patience, discipline, all for her. But perhaps patience wasn't necessarily a virtue in this case.

Five.

The shaking was slowing down now. I could feel myself calming down…the fur, which had been sprouting on my arms and legs, was retreating back behind my skin, where it belonged for the moment. I was Sam Uley—the Alpha. I was in control, not my anger. Me. I could be in the same room as my fiancée and my sister and not hurt anyone. I was stronger than that. I was stronger than my anger.

With a growl, I pushed myself off the ground, shaking the others off of me. "I'm fine," I assured them as I strode toward the house. They followed close behind, just in case I saw something I didn't like when I entered the house.

Of course, I didn't like the way my sister was lying there, broken, but that didn't mean I was going to lose control and hurt her further. I didn't really like the smell of vampire stinking up my house, but that didn't mean I was going to kick Dr. Cullen out. I knelt by Scarlett's head, stroking her dark hair gently. "What can I do, Carlisle?" I asked, desperate to be of some assistance.

"Can you carry her upstairs?" Carlisle asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Sure thing." I lifted her up easily into my arms, being careful not to jar her too much on our way up to the guest bedroom.

"That's…really all you can do for now," Carlisle said apologetically. "I'll stitch her up the best I can. She'll hurt in the morning…but she'll be fine."

I nodded, understanding. I left the good doctor to attend to Scarlett. Of course, right as I was about to get out my phone and call the meeting, the doorbell rang. _Nobody_ rang the doorbell to this house—the boys just made themselves at home. I sighed, running a hand through my hair agitatedly. I swung the door open and admitted Forks Police Chief Charlie Swan into my home.

"Good evening, Sam," Officer Swan greeted me.

"Good evening, Charlie," I nodded.

"How's your sister doing?" he asked, scratching his chin nervously. "I saw Dr. Cullen's car in the driveway."

"He's upstairs looking at her now. She…she's been better. But she's a tough kid. I've got faith in her."

"Sometimes, having a little faith is all we can do," Charlie nodded. "Well…I'm pleased to inform you that Mr. Uley is under arrest. Unfortunately, we can't just throw him in jail the way I'd like. He'll have a trial sometime in the next two months. If Scarlett's willing to testify…there should be no problem getting the conviction. Ten years, minimum, for the kind of damage he did tonight."

That was not going to make Scarlett happy. "We'll see if she's up to it."

"I'm no lawyer, Sam, but I can't see this case going in your father's favor," Officer Swan noted. "If you're going to press charges…you could get anything you want. His house, his car, custody of his kid…"

"I hope it doesn't resort to that," I sighed. I wasn't looking forward to taking my own father to court. I'd go to the jail sometime in the next week and talk to him. I'd bring Jared along with me, to keep me in check, and then I was going to tell Dad that Emily and I were taking legal custody of Scarlett.

"I wish you the best of luck," Charlie nodded. "Well...I've got to be going. It was nice seeing you again, Sam."

"Nice seeing you, too, Charlie. And thanks, for everything." We shook hands…which was a little weird, I'll admit, but then again Charlie's never been the greatest in social situations. His daughter, Bella, was a bit of the same way—quiet, but kind. Incredibly kind, I noted, as I looked at the clock.

It was nearly two in the morning.

I knew the pack wouldn't like being called in at this time of night, but since half of them were here already, I pulled out my cell phone and began dialing. "Quil?" I said into the receiver when he answered on the first ring. "Get the others. We're having a pack meeting."

Ten minutes later, I was surrounded by my brothers…and Leah, my sister—my pack. We were gathered around the coffee table in the living room, and Emily was in the kitchen as usual, cooking up a last-minute something for all of us. I looked at each face in turn, locking eyes with each of my fellow wolves before moving on to the next. When I'd come full circle, I sighed.

"Let me start out by apologizing, to those of you who witnessed my…loss of control," I began. "I'm supposed to be setting an example for all of you. Especially you three," I sighed, indicating to Collin, Brady, and Seth—the three youngest of our pack. "I didn't do such a great job of that tonight, and…I'm sorry."

"Sam…she's your sister," Jacob allowed, giving me a small smile. "I know I'd freak if something like this happened to Rachael or Rebecca. We all snap sometimes."

"Yeah, Sam, don't worry about it," Jared shrugged. "We don't respect you any less for what happened tonight."

"If anything, we're more in awe than ever," Seth grinned. "I mean…I know I would have phased if it had been me."

"Thanks," I smiled at them. Then, I sobered up and got to the real point of our meeting. "Well…now we've got ourselves a serious problem. Scarlett's going to be living here now."

"Well, we figured," Embry nodded. "I mean, it's not like we're going to let her stay with her dad after this."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Paul grumbled, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. Paul really did need an attitude adjustment sometimes. Emily and I had discussed it before—neither of us could wait until he imprinted. Maybe he would soften up a little once he found himself a girl.

"And since she is going to be living here," I continued, ignoring the exchange, "Keeping our little secret is going to become that much more difficult. I didn't want to tell her before, because it seemed unnecessary with her living across town. But now that she'll be right upstairs…"

"We could have pack meetings at my place," Jacob offered.

"Billy needs his rest," I chuckled. He wasn't quite as young as he thought he was sometimes. "Besides, what happens when your sisters are in town?"

"I'm all for just telling her," Jared decided. "She's your sister, Sam. That…that ranks about as high as an imprint, don't you think? The Alpha's sister is pretty damn important."

"My sister doesn't _'rank'_ above anyone else's sister. We're all equals here," I reminded him. Still, it felt nice that Scarlett was so appreciated and well liked. I wanted her to get along well with the pack; they would be seeing a lot of each other over the next few years.

"Look," Paul sighed, sitting up from his slouched position, resting his forearms on his knees and leaning in toward the center of our circle. "It's your call, Sam. On one hand, you could tell her. Sure, it's one more person who could possibly slip up…but she _is_ your sister. On the other hand…you could _not_ tell her, and we could move have our meetings somewhere else. It'd be harder for Scarlett to find out anything…but it would totally wreck any semblance of organization that we have. It's up to you."

"Maybe we should give her some time," Leah suggested. "I mean…she's got enough going on in her life as is. This doesn't seem like a good time to let her know her big brother's a werewolf."

"But where will we meet until then?" Brady asked. "We can't very well be going on about patrols and imprints with Scarlett living upstairs."

"We can hold any pack meetings at mine and Seth's house until you decide it's a good time to tell Scarlett," Leah offered. Seth was nodded emphatically in agreement, and I knew Sue wouldn't mind. She'd really stepped up to the plate as a member of the Council after Harry's tragic death a few ago. I hated bringing such an imposition into her home…but it was necessary for the moment. I'd give Scarlett two weeks. Two weeks of meetings and chaos at Sue's place, and then I'd tell my sister everything and things would go back to normal.

"Maybe you're right, Leah," I nodded. "Okay. For now…if a meeting's called, head for the Clearwater's. If it's a vampire-related emergency, Jared—bring Kim here if you're worried about her. I'll give Scar a little time…and then we'll tell her. Thanks for being so understanding, everybody."

"No problem," Jake shrugged. "Most of us have sisters."

"We all have at least one," Embry grinned, his gaze turning toward Leah.

"I'm going out for coffee," Lean decided, getting up and grabbing her things. "Anybody want to come with?"

A group of the guys got up and followed her out the door. Jared and Paul went out to finish their patrol, and Emily brought out a snack for the others who had stayed. We chatted for a while. But the boys all had to get back home for the evening, so around three-thirty Emily closed up shop and sent everyone packing.

Once the house was empty, I collapsed on the sofa with a sigh. There were still drops of blood on the upholstery—it smelled like Scarlett.

"I know you're feeling guilty," Emily murmured in that soft, soothing voice of hers as she sat down next to me. She took my face in her hands, and looked me straight in the eye. "But things happen for a reason, Sam," she smiled. It was a favorite saying of hers—she believed in it the way physics majors believed in gravity. "What happened to your sister is absolutely horrendous," she continued, "but she will turn out all the better for it in the end. Her experiences will shape her into the strong, beautiful, miraculous woman I just know she was always meant to be."

"Emily…" I sighed, kissing the scars on her cheek gently. "I love you so much."

"I know," she smiled. "I love you, too."

"Sam."

I grumbled angrily, detaching myself from my fiancée. "Yes, Carlisle?"

"I am sorry to interrupt," he chuckled knowingly to himself. "But I just thought you would like to know that Scarlett is going to be just fine. Give her a week, maybe two, and she'll be good as new. She might have some scars, but…" his voice trailed off, as if he wasn't quite sure how to voice what he was thinking.

"I'm sure she's used to it." There. I said it—for both of us. This wasn't the first time this had happened. I'd suspected as much…but I was kind of hoping that it wasn't the case. Carlisle nodded sadly before walking out the door, leaving the money I'd left for him on the coffee table behind.

So, maybe this wasn't the first time this had happened. But I was going to make sure that it would be the last. There was no way I was ever going to let that despicable man who called himself my father touch my baby sister again.

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><p><strong>Well, there you have it! Chapter two:) Just so you know, this story is going to be switching around as far as POV goes, but I'll make sure you all know who's POV the story is in for each chapter:) <strong>

**Penny for your thoughts?;)**


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: Twilight does not belong to me, but Scarlett does, as do any other characters you don't recognize from the series:)**

**Thanks so much to all my lovely reviewers from last chapter! You guys rock:) Seriously. Thanks:D I hope you all enjoy this next chapter:)**

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><p><em>Chapter Two<em>

**Scarlett's POV**

_Silence…_

I came downstairs for breakfast the next morning dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved turtleneck. Sure, it was mid-May, and I was so hot I actually thought I was going to have a heat stroke and die, but it was worth it if it kept Sam from seeing the stitches and bandages Dr. Cullen had applied the night before. The evidence of my nightmarish evening was everywhere—my arms, my legs, even my neck was starting to bruise. There wasn't much I could do about the cuts and bruises on my face, but the more I could hide from Sam the better; upsetting him was the worst crime I could possibly commit. He'd always been so good to me—I knew he thought this was his fault, but it wasn't. The last thing I wanted to do was make him feel unnecessarily guilty.

There was a playful sort of banter going on when I arrived in the kitchen; I knew Sam and his friends were close, but I hadn't exactly imagined them all stopping by for breakfast in the mornings. Was I surprised by the large crowd? Sure, but happily so. It was evidence of the life Sam had managed to build for himself away from my father.

As soon as I became visible in the doorway, however…everyone froze. The room was deadly silent, incredibly still, and I felt my face flush as I made my way to the table, sitting myself in the seat between my brother and Emily. "Good morning," I whispered, keeping my eyes down as I remembered the spectacle of my arrival in the house the night before.

…_Have you ever noticed…_

"Good morning, Scarlett," Emily greeted me warmly. "Did you sleep well?" she asked, as if nothing were weird or off about my presence in the room. The rest of the group exchanged looks from one to another, until slowly they resumed the amiable chatter I'd heard earlier.

God bless Emily.

"Just fine, thank you," I nodded.

"You know Kim, don't you?" Emily asked. "I think she's in your grade. Tall, brown hair, brown eyes, pretty smile…"

I wasn't sure if she'd realized, but she'd just describe half the girls on the reservation. Luckily, I knew who she was talking about. Kim and I had been close friends for years now. I exchanged an amused look with her boyfriend, Jared, and then nodded. "Yeah, Em. I know her. She's a sweet girl."

"She is," Emily agreed. "I sent her to your house this morning, to pack some of your things for you. I would have sent one of the boys instead, but…I thought she might have a better idea of what you would want with you while you're staying here."

…_How very loud it can become…?_

My eyes went wide, my entire body tense. "You sent here _where?_" I demanded, my teeth clenched angrily. Didn't Emily know how dangerous my father was? Wasn't I a living testimony to that danger? Stepping inside that house could get Kim _killed_, for Heaven's sake!

"Cool the jets, Scar," Sam chuckled darkly. "Dad's been taken care of."

"What do you mean, _taken care of?_" I asked as a chill went running down my spine. Sure, my father was an ass—an abusive ass that had shot me in a drunken rage the night before. But that didn't mean I wanted him dead, or anything. I believed strongly that my father was still there, somewhere buried underneath the violent alcoholic he'd become after my mother's death. That was the only reason I'd stuck around as long as I had. I loved the man my father had been—his death would devastate me.

"He was arrested," my brother elaborated. "It's about time, too. I've been trying to get something on him for years, to get you out of that house…all I'd needed was a little proof." He gave me a bit of an exasperated sideways glance. Up until now, I'd been hiding my abuse from Sam fairly well. Each time he'd tried to get the cops involved, I'd refused to cooperate. Again...I'd believed my dad could change. I still believed he could; he just wouldn't change. "Well, you definitely gave Chief Swan enough of that last night," he sighed, running his hands through his hair. "That pathetic excuse of a man will be spending the next ten years in jail where he belongs."

"Sam," I sighed, reaching over to touch his arm. "He's our father, and we love him."

"Like hell I do," he growled in response. "Nobody hurts my baby sister and gets away with it. Shooting at your own daughter…it's absolutely disgusting, the kind of things he must have done to you."

…_How it can start out piano…_

"You know as well as I do, that's not really him," I argued. "Our father's a good man."

"Our father _was_ a good man," Sam corrected me. "Now he's just an abusive drunk. And don't you go defending him anymore either, Scarlett. You and I both know he's getting exactly what he deserves."

I stared down at my food, feeling more than a little self-conscious as I realized that this conversation was actually taking place before a room full of kids I went to school with. "Sam…now really isn't the best time to be discussing the moral rightness of Dad's past actions," I murmured into my eggs, a blush creeping slowly across my face.

"Maybe you're right," Sam sighed. "Sorry, boys," he apologized.

"It's cool," Jared shrugged. "You know, I tried to get Kim to let me go with her," he mentioned, turning to me. He'd always been smooth with the subject changes. "But she flat out refused. She insisted upon getting your stuff together herself. You know how stubborn she can be," he chuckled.

I nodded emphatically. "Oh, yes. Kim…is not easily persuaded," I smiled. This was, however, one of the things that made her such a marvelous friend. She was so fiercely loyal that it was almost scary sometimes, and once she made up her mind about something or someone, there was no way she was ever going to change it.

"Will you be at school tomorrow?" Jared asked, obviously trying to make small talk.

"No," Sam answered for me.

"Why not?" I demanded, frowning.

"Because you look like hell," he responded. "You need a day off, Scarlett. Just…hang out at the house and chill tomorrow. Get some rest."

"People are going to find out anyway, Sam," I murmured. "I might as well get the whispering out of the way now. The longer I wait, the worse off I'll seem. I'd much rather just slip under the radar. I'm good at that."

"Don't worry," Quil smiled encouragingly at me. "I'll take out anyone who says anything. We've got your back. Right, boys?" He looked around the table at the friends seated around him, eager for support on his statement.

"Totally," Seth grinned without hesitation. The others chimed in, each of them nodding or smiling or agreeing emphatically with what Quil and Seth were promising. I felt tears forming in the corners of my eyes at the display of loyalty shown by all of Sam's friends.

I really wanted to hug someone.

…_And then crescendo to forte…?_

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. I jumped about a foot in my chair in surprise, earning a collective sort of chuckle from the group of boys sitting around the table. "Hi, Kim," I greeted my friend softly, looking up from my breakfast to meet her eyes.

"Oh, honey," she sighed when she saw my face. Kim hurried to my side, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. "I heard what happened," she murmured as she gave me a gentle squeeze. "I wish I could have been there," she growled, suddenly angry. "I would have given that man a piece of my mind."

"Trust me, Kim, I think we all feel about the same way," Sam sighed, bringing a forkful of muffin to his lips.

Jared stood up behind my friend slowly, silently, and his arms snaked themselves around Kim's waist. She gave a little shriek of surprise, but then relaxed. She looked peaceful as Jared held her close, his face buried in her hair.

"Sit down and have breakfast with us," Emily invited, a warm smile spreading over her face as she watched the two of them. "When we're done, maybe you'd like to help Scarlett unpack?"

"Sure thing," Kim grinned at me. She dragged Jared back to the table, pushing him down in his chair and sitting in the empty seat next to him. She began piling food onto her plate.

When we had finished eating, Kim and I washed off our plates and headed upstairs with my suitcase to unpack my things in the guest bedroom upstairs. I'd stayed here a couple times before, when things with Dad got a little…intense, so I already had a pair of jeans and a few shirts stowed away in the closet.

"I wondered where these were," I laughed, holding up my favorite pair of dark wash jeans…with rhinestones sewed onto the back pockets.

…_Like a song in the dark…_

"Your diva jeans!" Kim exclaimed in excitement. "Oh, my goodness, how long has it been since you wore these? You've got to wear them to school tomorrow, love. You've got to look killer tomorrow."

She and I had been through things like this before. When my mom had died, for example—the school rumor mill was in full action the day I came back to school. Kim's theory on rumors was something along the lines of, "If you look hot enough, nobody's going to give a crap what you did over the weekend".

"Come on, Kim," I chuckled, pulling her away from the bedazzled pants. "Help me with all this, will you?"

It took forever to get all of the clothes she'd packed out of my suitcase and into the closet. I knew I was going to be living with Sam and Emily for a while, but that didn't mean that I needed my _winter coat_ right now. I mean, I know it snows a lot in this part of the country, but it just wasn't that cold yet. Kim had gone way overboard.

"Kim, why do I need three bikinis?" I asked. "Why would you think I will even be wearing a bikini any time soon?"

"Because you're a hot little stud muffin," she shrugged. "And you've never cared what people said about you before. Besides, I like those colors on you. Yellow makes you look like sunshine."

I rolled my eyes at her, folding up the bathing suits and placing them in a drawer at the bottom of the closet.

There was a knock on the door. "Come on in!" Kim exclaimed brightly as she folded a pair of underwear.

"Kim!" I hissed, grabbing the offensive garment from her in an attempt to stuff it out of sight before our intruder…well…intruded.

But I guess I was a little too late. The door opened, and one of the boys from downstairs entered the room. I'd never met him before, but I recognized him as one of the guys who'd chased after Sam when he'd gone ballistic the night before. The one who had realized I'd been shot. I looked up at him, not quite sure what I was going to say, but wanting to say something none the less.

That's when our eyes met.

_Only silent._

He had the greatest eyes, too. They were this gorgeous midnight blue color, like the sky between evening and twilight. It was like…when the sunset had already happened and was over, but there was still that deep, dark blue coloring the sky. _That_ was the color of his eyes.

Suddenly realizing what was in my hands, I blushed furiously, holding my hands behind my back and praying he hadn't seen the Scooby Doo print. I looked down at the floor, wanting nothing more at that moment than just to die.

"Yeah, Paul?" Kim asked. "What do you want?"

"I…Emily wanted to know if you're staying for lunch."

"Well, of course she's staying for lunch, you idiot," Kim snorted. "She _lives_ here. Remember?"

My head snapped up as I realized they were talking about me, and I saw that Paul's eyes were still trained on me, staring. It was completely unnerving. If I'd been wearing boots, I would have been shaking in them.

Luckily, Paul took that moment to give an annoyed sort of sigh and turn his eyes on Kim. "I was talking to _you_, dim wit."

"Maybe you should learn to _look_ at who _you're talking to_," Kim growled in response, her eyes narrowed. "Staring is rude," she added as she saw Paul's eyes flicker back to me.

"Just answer the question."

"Yes," Kim replied. "I will be staying for lunch. Thank Emily very much for asking."

"Will do," Paul grumbled as he turned away, muttering to himself.

"Don't let him bother you," Kim insisted. "He's just…grumpy. If I catch him staring at you like that again, I swear I'll…"

"You'll what?" I challenged her, smiling. "You and I both know that you wouldn't hurt a fly. I love you, Kim, but it's true."

It had been strange, the way he'd been staring at me…even after I'd looked away. I didn't know what I'd been thinking as I stood there, holding my Scooby Doo underpants for everyone to see as I stared into those deep eyes of his. Maybe I wasn't thinking at all—that would make sense. I was still feeling a little bit dazed, to be honest.

But now that I was thinking, it was all to clear to me, why he stared. I mean, come on—why else would he be staring? He was staring at the stitches and cuts and bruises peppering my face.

I sighed, shaking my head dejectedly. It was people like that—like _Paul_—who made me feel just plain ugly.

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><p><strong>Ahh! Paul:) 'Nuff said:)<strong>

**Alrighty then! Here comes the part where I thank you guys for being awesome and then beg for reviews using an impractical amount of smiley faces (because I'm a smiley person and just can't help myself:D) ;)**

**Thanks so much for being so awesome! I don't know what I'd do without you guys:) If you liked this chapter, or if you didn't...why don't you let me know? :)**

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	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: Twilight is not mine. :) **

**So! Lots of reviews on the last chapter- thanks so much! You guys make my day. You know that? So thank you- for being so amazing:) **

**I hope you all like this next chapter! :) ENJOY!**

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><p><em>Chapter Three<em>

**Paul's POV**

The number one rule for any of us in the pack was this: obey Emily. As long as we were in her house, she was our master. When she says jump, we say how high. When she says run, we say how far. When she says go upstairs to Scarlett's room and ask Kim if she's staying for lunch…we say sure and get our asses up off the couch and do what she tells us to.

That was why I was standing in the low doorway of Scarlett's new room, knocking on the door when it would have been much easier to just shout the question up to Kim from my nice, comfortable spot on the couch downstairs.

"Come on in!" Kim called brightly from the other side of the door.

"Kim!" I heard another voice hiss—Scarlett. I hadn't heard her talk much before. I knew we went to school together…but I'd never really talked to her. I liked to keep to myself at school, and from what I'd heard, she did the same. I'd met her for the first time the night before when she'd dragged herself, bleeding profusely-with a bullet wound to the shoulder, I might add- two miles,alone, through the forest. At night. She was tough, for sure…but I couldn't hear that in her voice. It was soft…like a wind chime.

I opened the door, examining the situation before me. Kim was smiling sweetly up at me—oh, God, what had she done? I knew Kim, and she was not this sweet, no matter what she might have Jared thinking—but then my gaze turned to Scarlett.

First, I saw the pair of Scooby Doo underwear she was holding protectively in her grasp, and I couldn't help but laugh to myself a little. I was going to make some sort of comment, because, well, didn't you know? I'm just an ass like that. But then my eyes met hers.

Scarlett's eyes were a sort of stormy grey color. I'd never seen that color in a person's eye before…but it was probably the most beautiful shade I'd ever seen. I could see a sad sort of pain in those eyes, though, which was both in its own way quite beautiful, but also tragic. I felt a stab of heartbreak as I looked into those haunted eyes.

I realized right then that I no longer minded getting up from my spot on the couch to come upstairs. My own comfort wasn't any concern to me anymore—Scarlett's pain was much more important than my own. I wanted to do something, anything to ease that pain. I wanted to reach out to her, tell her that everything was going to turn out alri—

Oh, shit.

Suddenly, it hit me. It hit my like a ton of bricks, what had just happened. I'd come upstairs to run a stupid errand for Emily, and I'd ended up imprinting. On Sam's _sister_, no less. I blinked, hardly able to believe it. This was so messed up. I was Paul—the angry one, the one with pretty much zero self-control. I wasn't supposed to _imprint_. Not on the gorgeous, broken girl with stormy eyes and my Alpha for a big brother.

I was so dead.

Scarlett looked down at what she had in her hands, and her eyes went wide. A delicate blush was spreading across her cheeks. With her black hair and pink lips…well, she reminded me a bit of a little china doll. It was adorable.

_Oh shit! Stop that! _

I couldn't be thinking about her like this. Not with Sam downstairs.

"Yes, Paul?" Kim asked. She was sounding a little frustrated with my distraction. I guess I couldn't blame her. "What do you want?"

"I…Emily wanted to know if you were staying for lunch." Oh, _right_. Emily had sent me up here. So…when Sam found out, I could blame Emily! It was really her fault, after all, for making me go upstairs in the first place. If there wasn't such a dictator complex about her, I might still be blissfully unaware of Scarlett's existence.

"Well, of course she's staying for lunch, you idiot," Kim replied with a snort. "She _lives_ here. Remember?"

Scarlett turned her head back up toward me, those tragically beautiful eyes incredibly wide. She was surprised. Why, I wondered? But then I realized…I hadn't looked away from her since I'd come up here. Not even while I was talking to Kim.

Oops.

I wondered if I'd scared her. Scarlett sure looked a little unnerved…I felt guilty for that. She had enough problems to deal with. Finding a boyfriend probably wasn't on her To Do list at the moment.

_STOP IT!_ I wanted to scream. This was madness. This was horrible timing on my part, and a cruel, heartless joke by whatever higher power was out there, laughing right now as I stared at this girl in front of me with her hair falling over her shoulders…_Snap out of it, Paul_. This was…this was just not okay.

"I was talking to you, dim wit," I growled, turning now toward Kim. Was I taking a little of my frustration out on her? Sure. But you know what? Jared had left on patrol five minutes ago—he wasn't here to yell at me for "verbally abusing" his girl.

Besides. She deserved it.

"Maybe you should learn to look at who you're talking to!" she growled back. That's right. _Growled. _She really had been hanging out with the pack way too much. Kim narrowed her eyes in a not-so-effective version of Emily's killer Death Glare. "Staring is rude," she added when she realized it wasn't working on me the way she'd hoped.

I couldn't help it—my eyes flicked back toward Scarlett, just for a second. God, she was beautiful…

"Just answer the question," I sighed, forcing myself to look at Kim. I was up here for Emily, after all, and Emily's word was law. Besides…while Kim was fairly harmless, Emily could be absolutely vicious when she wanted to be, and her Death Glare actually scared the shit out of me.

"Yes," Kim replied. "I will be staying for lunch. Thank Emily very much for asking."

"Will do," I muttered under my breath as I turned back toward the stairs to give Emily the news. What the hell was Kim's problem, anyway? I was the one who had just fricking imprinted on Sam's little sister. Who was she to act all defensive? Who was she protecting, anyway? Herself, or Scarlett?

Then I remembered the self-conscious way Scarlett had held herself as I left the room. "Aw, shit," I muttered, smacking myself in the forehead. All the time I'd been staring at her…she thought I was staring at the scars.

Suddenly, I was furiously angry. The scars…all those scars! Last night hadn't been the first time her father had beaten her. He'd probably been doing it for years. Why hadn't Sam gotten her the hell out of there before? The thought of anyone hurting Scarlett…well, it really set me off. I felt my hands begin to shake, and I knew I had to blow off some steam.

"She's staying," I said to Emily before throwing off my shirt and heading for the back door. As soon as I was deep enough into the forest that I couldn't be seen by anyone in the house, I let all the anger go and exploded.

_Whoa, Paul,_ Jared warned me. _Calm down. What happened?_

_Don't talk to me,_ I hissed. I didn't want conversation—I didn't want a lecture. I just wanted to _run_. I needed to feel the wind in my fur and the earth in my claws. Nothing else but the steady rhythm of running was going to calm me down right now.

_Right. Sorry. _

I tried not to think as I ran. Not only did I not want Jared knowing what had happened inside—I didn't want _anyone_ to know, now that I thought on it, especially Sam—but thinking about it was just going to get me even more angry…which was so not what I needed just now.

Glaring down at the ground beneath me, I dashed between trees, hopped over boulders, darted through streams. Each obstacle I attacked more viciously than the last, exhausting myself enough that being angry took extra energy that I didn't want to waste. When I was good and tired, I allowed myself to slow down.

_Paul…what happened?_ Jared asked.

_Nothing,_ I lied. _You know me. I'm just an angry fellow. _

_Not _that_ angry,_ he countered. _Something happened. You don't want to talk about it, fine. Just make sure you can keep yourself cool. _

_I can, _I muttered. _Obviously. _I hated when the others saw my rage issues as a weakness. For the most part, I could control myself pretty well. It wasn't that I couldn't control my temper…it's just that with some people, such as Jake when he was being all lovey-dovey on Bella, it just wasn't worth it.

_This is worse than what happened with Bella,_ Jared argued. _A lot worse. This is something big, isn't it? _

_We all know I do stupid shit, Jared,_ I huffed.

_Paul…we're brothers, _Jared reminded me. _We can't keep secrets. _

Oh, yes, we can. But still…he was good with people. Maybe…

_I'd be happy to give you advice, _he replied, before I could even ask.

_I hate when you guys do that._

_Well? What did you do this time, Paul?_

I sighed, shaking my head. _Have you ever hurt someone, Jared? Someone you care about?_

_It sucks, doesn't it?_ he agreed. _Try apologizing. It's a miracle how far being nice can get you into someone's good graces. _

_Right. Apologizing. Thanks. I couldn't have possibly thought of that myself. _

_Try dropping the attitude when you're groveling, _Jared suggested. _It'll work better that way. _

_You know what? You're an idiot,_ I decided, already jogging back toward my own place. _So…thanks for nothing. _

_You're welcome! _

Huffing angrily to myself, I jumped up through my open bedroom window and phased, pulling on my sweats and an old T-shirt before getting out my crap I had to carry around with me for school and starting on my homework.

Calculus. I snorted, throwing the book to the side. I was a werewolf—why the hell do I need to know Calculus? Now that I thought about it…none of these subjects were particularly useful. I shoved it all off the bed angrily and stood up, marching to the door and downstairs to the kitchen.

"Paul?"

I looked up from the spoils of my kitchen raid to see my mother coming down the stairs in her bath robe, her hair wrapped up in a towel. "Hey, Mom," I greeted her before attacking the brownie in my hand with more aggression than I'd ever attacked any vampire. I glared up at the movie playing on the flat screen—_Night of the Living Dead—_and laughed angrily as one of the characters blew the head of an attacking zombie.

"Honey…are you alright?" she asked, sounding incredibly worried.

I looked up at her, and I couldn't help but soften a little. "Yeah, Mom. I'm good. Things have been just a little…rough at Sam's," I explained, trying to downplay the situation as much as I could.

"I heard," she nodded, a worried look coming over her face. "How is his sister doing? Scarlett, right?"

Hearing her name sent a wave of longing over me. I wanted to see her again. "Yeah," I confirmed. "She'll be fine. She's a little beat up, a little shaken up…but Sam and Dr. Cullen both say she'll be perfectly fine in a week or two." A week or two. That was too long for her to be fine. If someone does enough damage to a person that it takes one or two weeks to recover, that person is not _fine_.

"That's just awful. Nobody should have to go through that," my mother sighed. "I can't even imagine what kind of father would beat his own child."

"I dunno, Mom. A pretty sucky one, I guess."

Talking with my mom had always given me a sense of clarity. I could be myself around her. I could get pissed about stupid things, and she wouldn't throw me out of the house or tell me to just calm down already. She didn't judge, which was really cool of her. Instead, she made me calm myself down—if I didn't, I could hurt her, and that would kill me. I felt much calmer than I had when I'd left Sam's house earlier that morning.

"You know I love you, right Paul?" Mom asked, her hand resting on my arm. It always threw me off a little, seeing how small my mother was. I'd always looked up to her. She was my protector from the day I was born. But then…I'd phased, and all of a sudden, our rolls were reversed. She was the vulnerable one now, not me.

"I know," I nodded. "I love you, too, Mom."

We sat in silence for a moment…but that was okay. A little bit of silence was good every now and then. It gave a person the chance to think. That was one of the reasons my mom and I got along so well—we allowed each other our thinking time.

"You got a lot of food there," she commented when she was ready to talk again. "There's no way you're going to eat it all yourself."

"Wanna bet?" I challenged, quirking an eyebrow up at her.

"Twenty bucks?"

"Deal."

I loved my mom.


	5. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, Glee, or A Very Potter Musical:/ But I DO own Scarlett! She's pretty cool, right? :D Well, enjoy this next chapter, and thanks SO much to everyone who reviewed and/or added this story to their favorites/alerts:) You guys are great!**

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><p><em>Chapter Four<em>

**Scarlett's POV**

_Crap sometimes happens..._

"Are you ready for this?" Kim asked, looking me over as I sat in the passenger seat of her car in the school parking lot. I had on my diva jeans, a pair of Kim's gold high heels, and a loose-fitting, long-sleeved gold blouse with a belt around my waist to "show off my curves", as Kim had said the night before. My hair was curled, and Kim and I had applied so much cover-up to my face that most of the cuts and bruises- proof of any rumors that might have stared about me- were invisible. She had even let me borrow her sunglasses, in an effort to cover up my black eye. The overall effect was…well…hot. We'd tried it out on Sam that morning—Kim and I had nearly resorted to violence to get him to let me go to school like this.

We called it my anti-rumor hotness outfit.

"I'm ready," I nodded, taking a deep breath as I stepped out of the car. I grabbed my book bag and hefted it over my shoulder before closing the door behind me. Once Kim was at my side, she and I began the long walk into school together.

Did I get stares on my way to class? Hell yeah. I was uncomfortable with it, sure…but as shallow as mine and Kim's philosophy of "Hot people can get away with anything they want" may be, it was effective. Nobody asked about my dad, nobody asked me why I was wearing the glasses. It worked like a charm.

Actually…now that I think about it, it may have worked a little too well.

"Hey, Scarlett." I spun around in surprise when I heard my name. I didn't like to talk too much with people—I generally stayed out of people's way. So who was this kid, and why was he looking at me like that? "I'm, Alexander, from your history class?" he reminded me with a sheepish smile.

"Oh, right. Hi," I smiled.

"Look…I'm throwing this big end-of-school party this weekend…pretty much the whole school's coming," he grinned, obviously excited. "I was wondering if maybe…" he snaked his arm around my waist, and I froze, eyes wide. "…you'd want to meet me there?" he continued suggestively.

_...But mostly to me._

Of course, he couldn't see the terror in my eyes when he touched me—these damn sunglasses were doing their job way too effectively. I shuddered, pushing him away from me and fighting the urge to wrap my arms around myself and crawl into a corner and cry.

"No…no thank you," I murmured, looking down at my feet. "I'm sorry. I can't."

"Why, sure you can," he grinned cheekily at me, his hands reaching across the distance I'd put between us to put his hands on my waist. "It'll be fun. Trust me. You won't regret it."

I was backing up, trying to get away…but we were in a secluded corner of the cafeteria. Nobody was over here—and he had me backed into a corner. Literally. There was nothing I could do as he pulled himself closer to me.

"Don't…don't touch me," I stuttered, panic building inside of me. I wanted nothing more than to get away from this creep. I was scared shitless—so scared that my brain seemed disconnected from the rest of me, and I couldn't quite manage to make my protests sound convincing enough.

"You don't mean that," he smiled, coming closer still. He must have mistaken the terror in my voice for uncertainty. He thought I was going to be easy, that I was some common tramp because of my heels and my jeans and my sunglasses. I guess it's possible for someone to look _overly_ hot. Maybe Kim and I had gone a little overboard this time around.

"Seriously," I continued, my voice a little stronger now. "Back off."

"Scarlett, baby," he laughed. "Don't play hard to get. I know you want me. It's okay—I want you, too." He pressed his lips on mine greedily.

"Get the hell away from me!" I shouted, giving him a hard shove. "You're disgusting!"

"You little bitch!" he hissed, backing away from me. Finally, he turned around and headed back to his own table.

How many times had I been called that in my life? Bitch, slut, whore…every derogatory name you could call a woman had been directed at me at some point in my life. I'd managed to build up a sort of immunity to the insults, when my father had been throwing them at me. I was able to remind myself that he wasn't himself—what he said wasn't necessarily true. But now, hearing this kid—a complete stranger—say the same things…I couldn't help but wonder.

Maybe I was as worthless as my father had always made me out to be?

_...I would have never imagined_

"Hey, Scar! Come on, we saved you a seat!" Kim called from across the cafeteria, grinning at me, and waving to make sure I saw her.

It didn't look like she'd witnessed the event that had just happened. Actually…it didn't look like anyone had, just a small group of people at the table a few feet to my right who had gotten a good laugh out of seeing Alexander squirm. Good. I didn't want anyone to make a bigger deal out of it than it was.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kim asked me with a frown. "You look a little pale. Spooked, you know?"

"Oh…yeah, this school really needs to call an exterminator or something," I lied easily. "There are spiders the size of my fist in every corner. It's nasty."

"Eww!" she squirmed, her nose scrunched up.

"Hey, does anybody know where Paul is?" Jared asked suddenly, looking around the lunch room as he pulled Kim closer to his side. "He was here just a second ago…"

"There he his!" Embry pointed as Paul came into view. "Where were you, man?" he asked as his friend came closer to the table.

"I was just…taking care of some things," he muttered, giving me a quick glance. "No big deal."

Lunch went on, and the worthlessness I'd felt after my confrontation with Alexander just seemed to grow and grow until I wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed with a few of my stuffed animals. I rested my head on the table, squeezing my eyes shut against every memory I had of my father. It was times like these I wish I'd never been born.

But then, something heavenly happened. Over the intercom, a voice from above called out, "Can we have Scarlett Uley to the front office to check out, please?"

It was a miracle. An absolute miracle, plain and simple. "Thank God," I sighed.

"See you later, Scarlett," Paul murmured with a small smile.

"Thank you," I sighed, smiling in return.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "For what?"

That caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it again when I realized I had no idea what to say. Feeling a bit like a fish gulping in water, I tilted my head to the side. "You know?" I answered him at last, "I don't know." I'd just felt like a thank you was in order…for something. "But thank you," I added.

"You're welcome," he chuckled. "Tell Sam I say hi."

"Will do," I nodded. "Bye Kim, Jared, everybody," I waved to the rest of my group before hurrying to my locker to collect my things.

As I was walking by the health room, I thought I heard someone moaning. I peeked my head into the room for a moment, and laughed a little to myself in wonder. Alexander was lying on the cot, head lolled to the side, dried blood clinging to his nose and mouth. His nose was crooked to one side—clearly it had been broken. Someone had given Alexander a good punch to the face.

I only wish that I'd been there.

Someone had seen what he'd done to me. Someone had seen…and someone had been absolutely pissed. And I had a strong feeling that someone had then proceeded to call my brother and convince him to pull me out of school. _Someone_ was an absolute angel.

I hurried to the office where Sam was waiting for me. He held is arms out for me, and I ran to him, hugging him tightly. "I heard you're having a rough day," he murmured soothingly into my hair. "Want to talk about it?" he offered. I shook my head. Talking would just worry him. "How about just going out for ice cream?" he tried again.

"Sounds perfect," I whispered, grabbing onto his hand like I was a little girl again.

_...How hard things can be._

"So you really don't want to tell me what happened?" Sam clarified through a mouth full of ice cream.

"I really don't want to talk about it," I sighed. "I'm sorry…it's just that…well, it's not that big a deal, to be honest. I was just feeling kind of crappy, and my shoulder hurt, and these heels were absolutely killing me," I groaned, looking down at the offensive shoe. As Kim would always say to me, _"Beauty is pain"_.

"Too much all at once?" he guessed. I nodded. "You know, I did tell you to stay home today," he reminded me. "Didn't I tell you to stay home today?"

"Yes, Sam. You did tell me to stay home today," I played along with a roll of my eyes. I swear, sometimes I wonder whether my big brother was really four, instead of twenty-four.

"Speaking of me always being right," Sam continued as he continued to shovel ice cream into his mouth, "Didn't I also say once that Justin Bieber would be way more popular than Lord Voldemort?"

"Yeah, but it was one of the more deranged things you've ever said," I pointed out. "I mean, seriously. Justine Bieber's alright, but _Voldemort_? You don't get much more legit than him. Probably because he Avada Kedavra's the face off of anyone who gets anywhere close."

"Yeah? Well…look at my Twitter page," he grinned, holding out his phone to me.

Sure enough, it was true. Justin Bieber's followers had reached over 10,000,000…while Voldemort had a mere 1,173,000 followers. What has the world come to?

"That's it. I'm cancelling my Twitter account," I grumbled. "And you," I glared at Sam, "stop following Justin Bieber. That's just creepy." Like, the pedophile kind of creepy. That kid was what? Sixteen years old? Seventeen? The same age as me. It was like Sam was stalking me and Kim in his spare time.

"I appreciate his musical abilities," he defended himself. "It has nothing to do with the hair."

"You know what? If you want to start having celebrity crushes…go for Zefron. Okay? He's legit. And he's over eighteen, so it's a little more legal," I suggested, scooping up some ice cream and shoving it delightedly in my mouth. Yum! "He is such a boss," I added as an afterthought.

"He's so charismatic," Sam sighed, shaking his head in wonder.

"We need to stop watching _A Very Potter Musical_," I admitted grudgingly.

"Yeah," Sam agreed reluctantly.

We both stared down at our ice cream dejectedly for a moment at the thought of never again watching Darren Criss dance and sing across the YouTube stage, with his curly hair and painted-on lightning scar…

"Maybe we should start recording Glee," Sam suggested.

"Fo sho, big bro," I agreed.

When we arrived at the house, Sam informed me that he had to be going. "I've got work to do," he told me, grinning as he sped out the door. "I'll be back later!"

"Okay…" I waved, feeling confused. Sam was weird—he was my brother, after all. He didn't really show his weirdness around his friends, but Emily and I were used to it. It was one of the things we both loved the most about my brother. So, as he ran off toward the woods without explanation, I felt no need to ask for one. He was my brother, and I trusted him; he could take care of himself.

The weirdness of my big brother had provided me with an excellent distraction from the events of that school day. But now that I was alone again…I kept reliving that moment in the cafeteria. I felt Alexander's hands on me, that panic to get somewhere where I was safe…it was like someone had broken the DVD player, and the same part of the movie was playing itself over and over and over again.

I crawled under the blankets, pulling them up over my head, praying that maybe the darkness would shut out the humiliation and hurt I was feeling. But it didn't. I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears I could already feel coming. It was no use.

Why did everything have to happen to _me?_

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><p><strong>I didn't mention this before, but I don't own Zac Efron, Justin Bieber, or Twitter, either. :) <strong>

**Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think:) Thank you to all my lovely reviewers who keep me motivated^_^**

**Penny for your thoughts?;)**


	6. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight! I don't own A Very Potter Musical or A Very Potter Sequel, although that WOULD be a fantastic birthday present!;)**

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while! I hope this fluffy chapter makes up for it:)**

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><p><em>Chapter Five<em>

**Scarlett's POV**

_I was trapped in the rosebush's piercing thorns,_

I may have given an ardent "no" to Alexander's party invitation that Monday, but Seth and Leah Clearwater were having their own end-of-school bash that weekend. Late Saturday afternoon, Kim met me at Sam's house to help me get ready. When we had approved each others' appearances, we headed down to the Clearwater's place, hardly able to contain our excitement.

As we approached the door, Seth threw it open and welcomed us inside. He led us downstairs, where everyone else was gathered.

"Scarlett!" The girl standing before me had short, dark hair, and the same small, lean stature as her younger brother. This family definitely had muscle on their bones—maybe they went to the gym together in Forks? "You remember me, right? Big brother's ex? You look great, by the way," she commented, smiling.

"Thank you," I smiled, blushing a little, not knowing quite what to say to all of this. "It's nice to see you again, Leah."

"Ditto," she grinned. "Come on—we're about to pick out a movie." She dragged me over the couch, where we secured our spots. "It fills up quick," she warned me. "And you don't always get to sit by your best friend. It's best to just get here early."

I wasn't quite sure what to make of Leah. When she talked to the others…she had such a clipped, short, angry attitude. But me…something was different when she talked to me. Maybe it was because she still saw me as the cute, clueless little sixth grader that I was when she and my brother were dating all through high school. Or maybe it was because I'd been just as pissed as she was when he'd dumped her one day to propose to Emily.

Of course, that was all behind me now—I loved Sam more than anything, and as long as he was happy, I was happy for him. But he'd been unfair to Leah, and apparently, she still had a few issues to work out with a few people…just, not me. We chatted amicably until Seth dimmed the lights and announced that suggestions for movies would now commence.

"So, you're doing better, right?" Leah asked me, worry etched across her expression. "I heard about what happened the other day…well, I mean, everybody did, but that's probably not making you feel any better, huh?" she sighed, shaking her head. "Shit. Sorry, Scar. Just ignore me and my insensitive ramblings."

I just laughed, shaking my head. I'd missed Leah! "You're fine, Leah. But, yeah…I'm doing better. Not great…but, you know, better. My shoulder doesn't hurt so much anymore, anyway," I shrugged. The movement gave me little to no pain now…which was only partially because of the light painkillers Dr. Cullen had given me.

"Baby steps, kid," Leah applauded me with a grin.

"Agonizingly slow baby steps," I grumbled. "You know I've never been a patient person, Leah."

"Yeah, but…neither was I," she shrugged. "I guess we get better as we get older."

"I guess so," I agreed.

_Wondering how far I would sink._

"Mind if I sit here?"

I looked up and saw Paul staring down at me with a funny sort of smile. "Yeah," I nodded. "I mean…no…" I frowned. Just looking into his eyes was sending my heart into a frenzy. What was it about those big blue eyes of his that got me all flustered? I sighed, shaking my head. "Scratch that. No, Paul, I do not mind if you sit there."

He laughed for a moment—normally I hated when people laughed at me, but I really think I deserved it this time—and sat himself down on my right. As I felt the heat radiating off of him, I couldn't help but wonder…what was it about the men in this town? They all ran, like, a hundred and ten degree temperatures. Even Leah, I noticed, was pretty warm. It wasn't possible for that many people to be running that high a fever all at the same time, was it?

As I speculated about these possibilities, the others speculated about which movie we would be watching. Leah was all for _The Dark Night—_Heath Ledger _and_ a ton of kick-ass action. Kim was more in the mood for something along the lines of _A Walk to Remember. _

"That movie makes me cry _every time,_" I sighed, bringing my knees up to my chest.

"Me, too," Embry agreed, nodding insistently.

We all got a little chuckle out of that…but the motion for that particular movie was denied.

"What about _Star Wars_?" Quil suggested. "It's a classic!"

"It's also super nerd-a-rific," Kim argued.

It took nearly half an hour of arguing and bickering and banters back and forth across the room before Leah, muttering angrily to herself, got up and stood in the center of the room, her hands on her hips and a frightening glare in place. "This is getting ridiculous," she stated. "If you all don't pick a movie in the next five minutes, I'm sending everyone home."

"You wouldn't do that, Leah!" Seth pouted.

"Oh, yes I would," she retaliated. "So get your tails in gear and _choose already!_"

Everyone else seemed to think this was hilarious…but I just didn't get it. I shrugged, figuring it didn't matter that much anyway and it was probably some sort of inside joke.

"Okay, okay," Kim sighed, finally giving up her tirade to watch something _High School Musical_. "Well…how about this," she attempted to compromise. "We _won't _watch anything musical—although we all know how Paul loves his musicals."

We all looked to Paul, and I couldn't help but giggle a little when I saw his bemused expression. "Funny, Kim," he noted with a roll of his eyes, crossing his arms tighter across his chest.

"That wasn't quite the reaction I was going for," Kim muttered, "but anyway…how about _17 Again_? It's funny, it's got a little bit of romance, and Chandler from _Friends._ And Scarlett and I both get our Zefron fix for the week. How about it?"

The boys were conversing with each other quietly, getting each other's opinions before they decided to agree to Kim's terms or not. At last, Seth nodded, shaking her hand. "You drive a hard bargain," he said with a sigh. "But I think we're going to have to—"

"Okay! Now that we know what we're doing, let's put it in!" Leah interrupted before Seth could finish talking.

As if it had been scripted in a bad sitcom, Kim and I pointed at each other and screamed, "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!" and proceeded to erupt into a fit of giggles, still pointing at each other. The room sat there in shock for a moment as she and I laughed hysterically…until they decided that we were pretty damn funny and laughed right along with us.

The others waited patiently for Kim and I to calm down after our little outburst, apparently finding much amusement in the way that neither of us could seem to breathe while we were laughing. Eventually, our laughter subsided, and Seth was able to put the DVD in and press play.

_Now we're talking of zombies and unicorns,_

"May I just say that Zefron is amazing? I love him so much. More than any of you," I announced, grinning at our superb choice of movie.

"I'm sorry, but I must disagree," Paul whispered, leaning down by my ear. "I do believe that I love Zefron the most."

"He's just so charismatic!" I nearly swooned in delight. He was a Very Potter Musical Fan!

"On three. Favorite color of vines, other than green. One. Two. Three," he challenged, an eyebrow raised.

"Red vines!" I replied easily, grinning, before giving him a challenge of my own. "Favorite way to say "red wines" in a German accent?"

"Red vines," he laughed.

"Where have you been all my life?" I whispered excitedly, trying to keep the noise down so that everyone could hear the movie. "Zombies or unicorns?"

"Zombies, for sure," he nodded, a mock serious look on his face.

"Oh my God," I groaned, hardly able to believe it. "How perfect are you, Paul? Seriously?"

"So…zombies for you?" he clarified.

"Definitely," I grinned. "Zombies all the way."

"Funny. I'd pegged you for more of a unicorn type of girl," Paul commented, tilting his head a little to the side as he smiled dangerously at me.

"Are you serious?" I laughed. "Pssh, no. Can you imagine what the world would be like if we were overrun by unicorns? Everything would be shades of either purple or pink, we would poop out rainbows and butterflies would be _everywhere_. A zombie invasion would be much more fun."

"Favorite zombie movie?"

"Well, duh," I laughed. "_Night of the Living Dead._ It's _the _zombie movie! It's the zombie movie that sparked a whole decade of, frankly, quite mediocre imitations."

"You know, I was just watching that the other day," he grinned.

"I'm seriously jealous," I admitted. "My mom…" I trailed off, blinking. I didn't usually mention my mother; it brought back too many painful memories for me…like it was right now. "Well. She didn't like those movies. You know, angry, guns, violence…she wasn't a very angry person," I sighed. "Dad was the one I'd watch this kind of stuff with," I whispered, feeling small. "Before…you know. Everything."

For a heartbreaking moment, we were silent. I didn't mind—it gave me a moment to remember my mother. Paul seemed to understand it, too, because he reached down and set his hand on top of mine. As a general rule, I didn't like people touching me…but Paul's touch didn't scare me. It was comforting.

"I've got a copy of it at home," Paul mentioned, his voice gentle and sympathetic. "I can bring it by Sam's place tomorrow if you want."

"Really?" I asked, hardly able to believe his generosity. And everyone said that Paul was mean! "Thank you," I smiled. "Oh, look!" I whispered. "I love this part."

"Your shirt is bedazzled!" the character on the screen exclaimed.

"BEDAZZLED WITH RHINESTONES!" Kim and I shouted at the same time, turning to point at each other. The rest of the group rolled their eyes and grumbled a little to themselves, but Kim and I just kept laughing quietly for the next couple of minutes.

"Seriously, you two," Embry growled. "Shut _up_ already."

_You're perfect for me, I think._

"Pirates or ninjas?" I questioned Paul. The movie had ended a while ago. Seth had put on some music and laid out some food—which was all gone by now, of course—and people were standing around, talking. Paul and I were sitting in our same seats on the couch, laughing as we continued our interrogations.

He thought about it for a moment, considering the situation with the utmost seriousness. "Pirates," he said at last, nodding to himself, obviously satisfied with his choice.

"What?" I gasped, in shock. "_Pirates?_ Really? Defend yourself," I ordered, pointing a Red Vine at him.

"Pirates are legit," Paul stated. "They're much braver than ninjas, and much less deceitful."

"Did you know that pirates used to die of scurvy?" I asked. "Come on—that's not legit, that's pathetic. Vitamin C deficiency? What a lame way to go."

"At least pirates are straightforward," Paul argued.

"Only because they're not skilled enough to be sneaky," I interjected.

He shook his head, sighing. "Scar…obviously, there's no deterring you. We're going to have to call this one a draw."

"Good, because I've got to get going, anyway," Kim announced, popping up out of nowhere with a grin on her face. "Come on, love. Sam's expecting you back in twenty minutes."

"Sam can't give me a curfew!" I gasped, appalled.

"Oh, yes, he can," Kim grinned. "And he told me, if you were to react like this, that he would be more than happy to march down here himself and drag you home by the ears."

"He could just be like a normal brother and text me, or something," I grumbled. "Well…I guess we're leaving."

"It was nice seeing you, Scarlett," Paul said as I started to walk toward the stairs.

"It was nice seeing you, too," I replied with a smile. "Bye."

"Wait a second!" Paul exclaimed, reaching back behind the couch to grab my hand. He pulled me closer to him, laughing a little as he did so.

"Paul! What is it?" I laughed.

"I'll bring that movie by tomorrow," he promised.

"You could have told me that from over there," I muttered, relishing in the way my hand seemed to fit perfectly into his. I'd had a mild case of the butterflies all evening, being around this gorgeous guy with amazing eyes and the greatest sense of childish humor…but now the butterflies were going crazy, and my hand was tingling just a little, and I was amazed that a guy could make me feel like that.

"Come _on_ already!" Kim groaned, grabbing my other wrist and pulling me upstairs. "Jeez, girl! What's _your_ problem?"

"Hey, he wouldn't let me leave," I defended. "So it isn't my fault."

"What's up with Paul, anyway?" she asked, frowning a little to herself. "I've never seen him act like that with…with anybody. What did you do to him, Scar?"

"You mean…he's not always like that?" I asked her.

"No. He's usually kind of…well, angry. Sarcastic, a lot of the times…mean, I guess," she shrugged. "Definitely _not_ all smiles and laughter and bringing movies over to Sam's place." She frowned, looking deep in thought.

Seeing the intensity of the expression on her face, I was naturally growing a little worried. "Honey…don't hurt yourself," I warned her.

But then, the most magnificent, evil smile broke out across her face. "He _likes_ you!" she practically screamed. "One of the angriest people I know has been softened up by my super-sweet-and-crazy best friend!" she was squealing now, and if she hadn't been driving, she would have been hugging me.

"He does not, Kim," I replied with a roll of my eyes. "We just met, like, this week."

"He so likes you," she argued, shaking her head. "And you so like him," she grinned. "Don't bother arguing with me, either. I saw you two tonight. It was kind of disgustingly adorable."

"Kim," I groaned, banging my head back against the seat. "It's not like that. Why does _everything _have to be like that? I can meet a guy and just be friends with him, you know."

"Yeah, I know," she nodded. "But that's not what Paul is. Or…that's not what you want him to be," she frowned, correcting herself. "Trust me girlie, there is definitely something going on here."

"Whatever, Kim," I sighed, knowing that I was fighting a losing battle. "I'll see you Monday," I told her as I got out of her car.

"Bye, love!" she called, waving me on my way up to the house. Once I was inside, I could see her through the window, driving off into the darkness.

"Good! Five minutes before curfew. Very good, Scarlett!" Sam exclaimed, coming out of nowhere and enveloping me in a big, warm hug.

"Why is everyone here so hot?" I asked. "I mean, not like gorgeous. Just…hot. It's like everybody in La Push has got some sort of ongoing fever."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, his face scrunched in confusion.

"You know what I'm talking about," I argued. "You're burning up! You should be, like, dead right now!"

"You've had a long day," Sam sighed, shaking his head. "Maybe you should go get some sleep.

"Yeah…and maybe you should go take an ice bath," I muttered under my breath as I climbed up the stairs.

"I heard that!"

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><p><strong>Well, there you go! Scarlett and Paul are kind of adorable together, aren't they? :) Thanks for reading! :) Leave me a review to let me know what you think:)<strong>


	7. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: Twilight doesn't belong to me. Neither does _A Very Potter Musical_:)**

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><p><em>Chapter Six<em>

_Sam's POV_

"You gave her a curfew, Sam?" Emily sighed, sounding more than a little exasperated. "She's seventeen years old, for Heaven's sake!"

"I didn't want her getting hurt, or into trouble," I replied defensively. "She's my baby sister and I'm not going to let her stay out until midnight at some party with a huge group of teenagers."

"Sam. Really? She was with the _pack_, and their _imprints_. Nobody in the entire state of Washington was safer than she was last night. And as for getting into trouble…well, you'll just have to trust her on that one," Emily chuckled. I guess she had a point—what kind of trouble could she have gotten into with my boys around?

But then again…I'd heard their thoughts. I knew what their thought process was like. Maybe I was right to worry.

"Well…maybe it's just the controlling older brother in me," I sighed, shaking my head. "I don't know. I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to her." I turned to Emily, taking her face in my hands. "To either of you."

"As long as you don't set any curfews for me, honey," she smiled.

"Of course," I laughed, hugging her tightly. I was just about to go in for a kiss when the phone rang. "You've got to be kidding me," I groaned, pressing my forehead against hers.

She just laughed. "Go answer it," she ordered, shoving me away playfully.

I did as she asked, crossing the room to pick up my cell phone. "It's Charlie," I stated in surprise as I looked at the caller ID. "Hey, Charlie," I greeted the Chief of Police.

"Sam…I've got some bad news for you," Charlie began sadly.

"Go ahead," I nodded.

"Your father…well…he's dead."

What? "What do you mean, he's dead?" I asked, not quite believing it. I sat down on the sofa, staring at the opposite wall. Emily looked worried as she sat down next to me and took my hand.

"We were holding him in the prison with the others waiting their trials, and this morning…one of the buildings caught fire. Your dad was inside. He was…hardly recognizable," Charlie explained.

"Oh, God," I whispered, pressing my forehead against my knees. "You're sure it's him?" I asked.

"Forensics is pretty sure," Charlie confirmed. "Sam…I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Charlie," I sighed. "Thanks for calling."

"Of course. Tell Scarlett…" he couldn't quite seem to find the words to express just what he was trying to say. But I understood.

"I will. Bye, Charlie."

I hung up the phone, sitting it down next to me on the couch.

"Sam…what's wrong?" Emily asked, her hand reaching up to rest on my face.

"My dad…he's dead," I answered, my voice sounding awfully dry. "They found him this morning. There was a fire."

"Oh, Sam…I'm so sorry," Emily whispered, wrapping her arms around me.

I looked down into her brown eyes that were always so full of warmth. "How are we going to tell Scarlett?" I wondered. "Even with everything he did to her…she loved Dad. She thought…she thought that maybe she could reach a better side of him. This is going to just break her heart."

"It'll be okay," Emily promised me.

I pulled her close, kissing the top of her hair. "I know it will be, Em."

_Scarlett's POV_

_When I am soaring at my highest,_

I woke up feeling fresh the next morning. The night before had opened my eyes to something I'd forgotten about—I loved life. I might be self-conscious and jumpy and afraid at school…but that wasn't me. I was a teenage girl who absolutely loved living. And you know who had brought on this sudden realization?

Paul.

Excitement was rushing through me as I anticipated his arrival at Sam's later that day. He _had_ promised to bring his copy of _Night of the Living Dead,_ after all, and I could tell that Paul was the kind of guy who kept his promises.

Maybe…maybe I could get him to stay and watch it with me?

Okay, I'll admit it—I'd thought a lot about what Kim had said the night before, about Paul and me. The more I'd thought about it, the more I'd realized that Paul was a really, really great guy. Sure, we'd just met…but it wasn't like I wanted to declare my undying love for him, or anything.

I didn't know when he'd be coming to bring the movie over…so I used every second I had to make sure I looked presentable. My hair was straightened, make up done, and I had on my favorite hat—a pinstriped fedora I'd gotten from my mother when I was thirteen, which she'd nick named the "Fedora of Power". (And now you know where mine and Sam's weirdness comes from.)

Feeling good, I picked up my iPod and selected my most up-beat playlist. I was singing along to "Walking on Sunshine" as I made my way downstairs. I really did feel like I was walking on sunshine, too—I was flying.

"Good morning, Sam, Emily!" I exclaimed happily as I saw my brother and his fiancée sitting on the couch together. It took me a minute to register the wet trails of tears on Emily's cheeks. "What's wrong?" I asked, pulling the headphones out of my ears.

"Scar…you might want to go ahead and sit down," Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"What happened?" I insisted further, taking a seat in the big arm chair across from the couch. "Something happened. Is everyone okay?"

"Charlie called us this morning," Sam began. I felt a cool chill of anticipation raising goose bumps on my arms. Please, don't let this be what I'm thinking it is… "There was a fire," Sam continued. "Dad…well, Dad's dead, Scar."

_Heartbreak hits the hardest._

I knew it. I'd known this was coming. That didn't lessen the shock, though, or the pain. My father…he may have hit me and cursed at me, even shot me…but he was my father, and as crazy as it may be, I still loved him. He was the only parent I'd had left—I was an orphan now.

"Are…are they sure?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. "Fires…fires can make identification…difficult…maybe, they got it wrong, maybe…"

"No, Scarlett," Sam sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. He's gone. They're sure."

"I…" I stood up, not quite sure where I was going. "No. This just…this can't be happening. Not again. Sam…" I turned to my big brother, feeling absolutely terrified. "It's my fault, Sam," I whispered, my eyes wide.

"Scarlett, don't say that," Sam ordered.

"But it is!" I gasped, suddenly unable to breathe. "I…I shouldn't have left! He…he wouldn't have come after me…wouldn't have been arrested…he'd still be alive if I hadn't come here!" The revelation hit me hard, like a semi on the highway.

"Scar, it's not your fault," Sam said gently, folding me into his arms. "What Dad did to you was awful, disgusting. You were right to come here. He would have killed you."

"Just like I killed him!" I sobbed. I felt dirty, disgusting. I'd killed my father—I didn't want to be around Sam and Emily when I felt like this. They were too clean, too good for me. I pushed away from my brother and ran upstairs, crawling into my bed and throwing the covers up over my head.

After everything he'd done to me…I was even worse than he was. I'd killed my own father. I knew then that everything he'd every said to me was true. I was ungrateful, a horrible daughter, a failure.

I was a murderer.

_Paul's POV_

Knocking on Sam's door, I couldn't help but be a little nervous. I was just bringing Scarlett a movie…but what if he read more into it? What if he thought I was bringing the movie over purely so that I could watch it with her? Sure, that would be nice…but I wasn't using the prospect as an ulterior motive. I was actually just trying to do something nice.

But when nobody answered the door, I began to wonder if maybe Sam's questioning of my intentions might not be my biggest problem. I opened the door—Sam rarely kept it locked, and even if he did, each of us in the pack have a key—and looked around.

And that's about when I registered the sound of soft sobs coming from upstairs. I was just about to dash up the stairs to see if it was Scarlett when Sam came out of the kitchen, looking like a vampire had just punched him in the gut.

"Paul?" Sam greeted me, confused. "What…"

"I told Scarlett I'd let her borrow a movie," I explained offhandedly. "What happened? Is she okay?"

"Our Dad died last night," Sam explained. "Scarlett…isn't taking it very well."

"Shit, Sam," I gasped. "I'm so, so sorry. Are you alright, man?" I asked.

"I'm fine," Sam assured me. "I'm just disappointed I never got the chance to kill him myself. If you want to leave your movie for her on the table over there, I'll see that she gets it."

"Actually…if you don't mind, I'd like to see her," I practically begged. "I mean…I know it's been a while since my dad died…but maybe I can help?"

"If want to go see her…go ahead," Sam nodded. "I think she'll appreciate it."

"Thanks, Sam. And…I'm sorry for your loss. I bet your dad meant a lot to you before he…well…yeah," I stumbled, trying to be more comforting and less insensitive jerk. Then, I hurried up the steps, taking them two at a time until I got to Scarlett's room.

I knocked on the door. "Em? Scar? It's Paul." After a moment of waiting, Emily opened up the door for me, smiling sadly.

"Hi, Paul," she greeted me.

"Hey, Em."

"Paul?" Scarlett poked her head out from under a pile of blankets. Her stormy eyes met mine, and my heart nearly broke. She was in so much pain. "I…I forgot you were coming. I'm sorry, I…"

"Don't worry about it," I instructed her.

"I'll go make you some hot tea, honey," Emily murmured, stroking Scarlett's forehead.

"Thank you, Emily," Scarlett sniffed.

I held up the movie, giving Scarlett a small smile. "I brought the movie," I announced. "Although, now that I think about it, you might not be up to two and a half hours of the undead…"

"Thanks, Paul," she smiled at me. God…the way she said my name, followed by that smile…I was a goner. She had me wrapped around her finger, and she didn't even know it.

"Which is why I grabbed this from downstairs," I grinned, showing her Sam's laptop I'd seen sitting on the counter in the kitchen. "Would you be up for _A Very Potter Musical_?"

"I would love that," she smiled, nodding. "Here," she said, gesturing for the computer. "I know his password." Scarlett quickly logged into Sam's computer, and pulled up YouTube. "Just let me sign into my account real quick," she muttered to herself. "I have the whole thing on a playlist," she explained with a sheepish sort of smile.

"That's okay. So do I," I admitted in a conspiratorial sort of whisper. There are no words to describe how that adorable little giggle my comment elicited from her was making me feel.

She put the computer down at the foot of the bed, lying on her stomach in front of it so that her head was hovering above the keyboard. She turned her eyes toward me, giving me a grateful smile. "Come on up," she offered, patting the space next to her. I looked toward the door, worried her brother would come up and kill me. She just snorted, grabbing my elbow and pulling me forward.

"What?" I demanded as she continued to shaker her head, laughing to herself.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of my brother," Scarlett smiled.

"Well…only a little," I admitted.

"You shouldn't be. You're acting like he's the Big Bad Wolf, but he's more like a big, cuddly puppy than anything," she tried to explain.

Of course, the irony of that statement was just way too much for me. I was bursting out laughing, clutching my sides with tears streaming out my eyes.

"What?" she laughed. "I'm sorry, I suck at metaphors!"

"No," I said, shaking my head. My eyes locked on hers, and I could have sworn I felt her breath stop. "Don't apologize. Your metaphors are perfect."

"You think so?" she breathed, her stormy eyes wide.

"Yeah," I nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I do."

She looked down, that blush of hers I loved so much spreading across her cheeks. "The video's loaded now," she murmured, turning her attention back to the computer and pressing play.

As I watched her face, I could still see that pain behind her eyes. It was killing me, seeing her hurt like this, especially over someone like her father. Somehow, the man was managing to hurt Scarlett from beyond the grave.

"Hey," I said gently, resting my hand on hers. "Are you okay?"

"I…" the question seemed to take her by surprise. "No," she admitted.

"You know it's not your fault, don't you?" I pushed. It wouldn't surprise me if Scarlett had been blaming herself for everything that had happened to her. "Because it's not, Scarlett."

She didn't look at me for a long time. We watched the small laptop screen, chuckling to ourselves at the lyrics to the opening number. Then, suddenly, she turned her face up toward me, and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Paul," she murmured, burying her face in her arms.

Yup—I was definitely hooked.

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><p><strong>I just love Paul, don't you? :)<strong>

**Well, I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter! Let me know what you think:) I just love getting your feedback! I should have chapter eight up pretty soon!**

**Penny for your thoughts?;)**


	8. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight! I own my characters, my plot line...but that's about it:) **

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><p><em>Chapter Seven<em>

_Scarlett's POV_

_Shadows and darkness…_

As the end credits rolled up the screen, I found it hard to believe that what was happening was real. It felt like a dream…the kind that starts out like a nightmare, but then turns around on you and becomes even better than your reality. I had actually spent the past two and a half hours with Paul, watching the most amazing fan-made musical ever created. And, even more amazingly, sometime in those two and a half hours Paul had managed to wipe away the feeling of guilt I had over my father's death.

Now, that took skill.

"Paul, Scarlett, I've got lunch ready!" I heard Emily call from downstairs.

"Sweet," Paul grinned, closing the computer and hopping up off the bed, taking long strides toward the door. He did all of this in about five seconds. I, of course, hadn't even registered that Emily wanted us downstairs yet…so I was pretty much struck dumb at his incredible reaction time. "You coming?" he teased me.

"You know, if I'm ever in a car crash," I mused, "I want you in the car. Your reaction time is almost impossible."

"Or maybe I'm just really, _really _hungry." He held the door open for me, and followed me down the stairs to the kitchen where Emily had lunch set out.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" Emily asked, a concerned look on her face.

I looked up at Paul, feeling incredibly grateful. Three hours ago, I was a complete mess. Now…well… "I'm better, Em. What did you make? It smells delicious."

"Hey—where is everybody?" Paul asked with a frown.

"Check your phone," Emily chuckled.

Paul looked down at his cell phone, and his eyes went wide. "Shit," he cursed. "Scar…I've got to go," he announced apologetically. "I'll see you later," he promised, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek before running impossibly fast toward the door and out into the woods.

My hand flew up to my face, my cheeks burning. I was torn between the exhilaration of Paul's lips on my cheek…and the complete and utter embarrassment that it had happened right in front of Emily.

"We've made a new friend, I see," Emily said knowingly, her eyes sparkling.

"I…he…umm…" I stuttered, feeling more than a little dazed. "Yeah. This is embarrassing. Don't tell my brother."

"I would never," she grinned. Despite the way she was looking at me—the wheels in her head were definitely turning, that's for sure—I knew she wouldn't tell Sam. Emily knows how worked up he can get. This would probably push him over the edge of sanity and reason.

We sat down to lunch, eating silently as Emily kept stealing excited glances in my direction. I was just about to say something when I saw a flash of black outside the kitchen window. "Did you see that?" I asked her, standing up and going to the window.

"See what?"

"There was something outside…or…I thought there was," I frowned, feeling confused. Huh.

"Don't worry about it, honey. It was probably just a trick of the light," she smiled at me.

"Are you sure?" I asked, turning to her and feeling worried. I'd heard news of wolf attacks on the reservation lately…

"It happens all the time," she nodded.

"Okay," I nodded, trusting Emily. "Here, I'll wash—you dry," I offered, picking up our empty plates and taking them to the sink.

Sam didn't come back from work until late that night. He was a mechanic here in La Push, but he had a habit of losing track of time and working late. It had already happened a couple times in the week since I'd moved in with him and Emily. As soon as he walked through the door, he pulled me into a long hug.

"Hey, short stuff," he greeted me. "I didn't get to hug you before I left."

"Just because you and your little group of friends are all freaks of nature, doesn't mean I'm short," I huffed. "I am five foot five, mister. That would be called _average._"

"Yes," he agreed. "And I am above average."

"Shut up, you big jerk," I grumbled, pushing him away from me—but he just held on tighter. "Sam!" I whined. "Let me go!" I felt like we were little kids again, back when he and I would roll around on the ground fighting each other like a couple of wild dogs.

"Nope!" he grinned, hugging me. "I want a hug from my baby sister."

"Sam Uley, let me go. _Now_. Or else." I glared up at him, trying my best to be absolutely terrifying. I'd been watching Emily a lot lately…and I think my glare was getting a lot better. I mean, practice makes perfect, right? And I'd definitely been practicing, mostly on Kim.

"Or else what?" he laughed, obviously unthreatened by me. Guess I needed more practice.

"Fine. You asked for it," I sang. I sank my teeth down into his arm, giving him a nice, hard bite.

"Shit!" he shouted, dropping me and jumping about a foot back. "You just bit me!"

I looked over at his arm—it was bleeding.

"Hey!" I exclaimed excitedly as I wiped my mouth. "I drew blood this time!"

"You are disgusting," he pouted.

"Love you too big brother. Why don't you go get yourself a band-aid for that?" I suggested, skipping upstairs to my room and laughing to myself.

…_Whispering ghosts…_

I stuck my headphones in my ears, and spread out on the bed, relaxing as I listened to my favorite music. It had been a long, very confusing day…and I was ready for it to be over. It may have been only eight thirty, but the next day was a Monday, and I would officially have only two weeks left until graduation. Catching up on sleep now might not actually be such a bad idea.

Somewhere around eight thirty-five, I drifted off to sleep.

"_You don't belong here."_

I sat up in a shock, the voice in my ear so real…it couldn't have been a dream, could it?

"_We both _know_ you don't belong here. Sam, Emily, Paul, the others…they're all such good people. _Such_ good people. This home…it's not the right place at all for a bitch like you. You're worthless, Scarlett. Nobody came to take you away from me, did they? Not even your precious big brother." _

It had to have been a dream, because that was my father's voice. And…well, my father was dead. The one good think about his death had been the knowledge that he would never talk to me like that again. But, it seemed as if he had come back to haunt me in my dreams.

"Dad, go away," I pleaded. I had been so sick of being treated like crap for so long—he did not get to be in my dreams. Dreams were places for people like Paul, Leah, Seth, Emily, Sam—people I actually liked. "You can't talk to me like that anymore. You're dead, remember?"

"_Am I?" _he replied, laughing. _"Well. We'll just see how much damage a dead man can do."_

Suddenly, there was a crash outside—I jumped about a foot in the air. I was wide awake now, not half-asleep like I'd been just a moment ago. A cold chill was creeping over me, the kind you get when you aren't quite sure whether something was a dream or reality.

Had I really heard my father's voice? Or was I just going crazy?

…_Monsters in closets…_

Pulling my covers close, I curled up in a ball, feeling absolutely terrified. If it had been a dream, it was the most realistic dream I've ever had in my life. I could practically _smell_ the alcohol on his breath. I had never been so scared of anything in my life.

When he was hitting me, at least I knew exactly where he was, exactly what he was going to do. Now…I had no idea. And that scared me more than anything.

There was a howl outside—wolves. It sounded close…which really didn't help me calm down. I gave a little squeal of fright, pulling the covers up and over my head, squeezing my eyes shut.

I heard the door to my room squeak slowly open, and my breath caught. What if it was Dad? What if…no, that was crazy. I had been dreaming, and it wasn't my father walking through my bedroom door. It wasn't my father sitting down beside me, it wasn't my father gently tugging the blankets out of my grasp…

I screamed when the blanket was pulled away from my head, using my arms as a shield. Big hands grabbed me, and I just knew I was going to get a beating, just for hiding like I had. I kicked and struggled, but those hands were just too strong.

"Scarlett! Scar, it's me! It's Sam!" Sam exclaimed, holding me down. "Calm down! Easy. It's just me."

Breathing hard, I pulled Sam to me in a hug, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. "Sam," I whimpered, shaking a little. He pulled me in closer, stroking my hair, rocking me like when I was little.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, searching my eyes. "Are you alright?"

"N-no," I stuttered. "A…a bad dream. That's all. Just a dream." I didn't know if I was trying to convince Sam, or myself. "I'm fine. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Sam nodded. "Just like old times, huh?" he grinned. "Here, do you want me to check your closet for you?" he teased as he stood up to open up the doors and stepped inside the closet.

"Don't worry about me, Sam," I told him, chuckling shakily. "Go back to bed. I'm fine."

He closed the closet door, apparently satisfied that there were indeed no monsters there to torment me. "Alright," he sighed. "Goodnight, baby sister." He kissed my forehead, and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

I listened, knowing that I wouldn't hear anything from Sam until he got back to his room downstairs and closed the door. Once I knew he was safely back in bed, I relaxed a little. I still wasn't brave enough to keep my head above the covers, but once I got over the stuffiness and suffocating feeling of my little cave of blankets, I was finally able to sleep.

…_I'm not alone._

A few hours later, I woke again—this time to the sound of rain beating on the window. I lazily turned my head toward the clock—3:15 am. Seriously? Was I not going to get any sleep tonight? I groaned, shoving my head back under the covers.

When, after five minutes of squeezing my eyes shut and literally praying for sleep to come and I was still wide awake, I threw the covers off in a huff and made my way downstairs. I opened the cupboard and found, to my delight, a plastic container full of Emily's famous chocolate chip cookies. I grabbed two and stuck them on a paper towel, tossed them in the microwave for ten seconds, and grabbed myself a glass. I was staring out the window as I poured myself some milk, when something caught my eye.

Something was staring at me from right behind the tree line. Its eyes were big and brown, and fairly far apart, yet still on the front of the animal's face. I just knew that something with eyes like that had to be huge. We stared at each other for a moment…or, at least, I imagined we were staring at each other. In reality, the animal probably couldn't see me—it was looking at something on the side of the house, more likely.

The timer on the microwave went off, and I realized that the milk was overflowing. Cursing, I put the lid on the milk carton and grabbed a paper towel to wipe everything down. Sipping out of the top of the milk glass, I pulled the cookies out of the microwave and brought my little snack over to the couch.

The sound of the rain outside was soothing. I'd always liked the rain—it was cleansing, comforting for me. Besides…when you lived in this part of the country, you learned to love the rain; otherwise, it would drive you crazy.

As I munched on my cookies and sipped my milk, I was able to calm down a little. I'd had quite an adventure of an evening, between my crazy dreaming and my apparent inability to stay asleep for more than a few hours. It was nice to just sit and chill, listening to the sound of the rain on the window.

Yawning, I took my glass to the sink and threw away the paper towel. I knew that I was never going to get back to sleep, so I searched Sam and Emily's book shelf until I found something worth reading—_Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_. I curled up on the couch, and dove into a world of werewolves and magic. You know, there were times I wished my life was that exciting…

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><p><strong>Penny for your thoughts?;)<strong>


	9. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or Harry Potter:)**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Eight<em>

**Paul's POV**

I dragged my feet tiredly up the front porch, eager to finally be getting a shower and then to bed. Actually…I was going to skip the shower tonight. I'd just run a three-hour patrol shift, and let me tell you—all I wanted was to get some shut-eye. I was practically drooling at the thought of my nice, warm, comfortable—

And that's when I heard the howl.

Anywhere else, a wolf's howl didn't mean too much—a wolf in the pack had gotten lost, perhaps, or the pack was reassembling after a hunt. But in La Push, a howl like that could only mean one thing.

Vampire.

Groaning, I took off running back toward the forest, and phased.

_Where is it?_ I demanded immediately. I honestly just wanted to kill the thing as quickly as possible—if we didn't, it meant double patrol shifts. Knowing my luck, I would be the first one picked to run patrol. So, as I made my way toward the pack, I was preparing for a fight.

_What do you want me to tell Scarlett? _Jared was asking. Apparently I'd interrupted a conversation. Oops.

_Leave Kim at home,_ Sam instructed. _She's safer there. _

_What do you mean, safer? _I demanded. _Where'd you see the bloodsucker?_

_Inside Scarlett's closet, _Sam growled, his protective big-brother instincts I was so afraid of flaring.

_What? How the hell did it get in her room without her noticing? _I practically shouted. I was so pissed…if I wasn't already in wolf form, I would have phased on the spot.

_It doesn't matter how,_ Jared interjected. _The question is, why? There are at least five werewolves in that house at any given time of the day. There is _no way _a vampire could miss that. _

_You don't just climb in the Alpha's baby sister's window to check out her clothes, _Embry added. _She wasn't bitten, was she?_

_No,_ Sam assured us. _No, she's fine…I don't think it even woke her up. But you've got a point, Embry. Jared, I want you to take Quil, Seth, and Brady and run the border. If the leech is still in the territory, I want it _dead. _Got it?_

_Yes, sir,_ Jared replied, taking off with the other three behind him.

_Collin, Embry, Paul, Leah, Jake…where's Jake?_

_With the Cullen's, _Embry replied. _He heard the howl and went to Nessie. _

Sam started to growl impatiently, and almost ordered one of us to go after him.

_He went to his imprint, Sam, _I reminded him. _He should have come to us…but whatever. We shouldn't need eleven of us to get this leech taken care of. _Admittedly, a month ago I would have gone after Jake myself, taunted him until he went into a rage and phased, and dragged him back by the tail. But I sort of understood where he was coming from, now that—

Whoa. Couldn't think about that now—not with Sam listening. Luckily, nobody was paying any attention to me, as per usual. I returned my attention to Sam.

_Fine,_ Sam agreed with the statement I'd uttered that sounded so utterly unlike me. _Leah, Paul—circle the house, see if you can get a lead. We want to track this leech down before it can do any damage. Embry, Collin, we're running a perimeter of the town. I don't want this guy sneaking in anyone else's windows. If anyone catches a glimpse of our new friend, let out a howl. _

_Yes, Sir! _Seth exclaimed, a little too eager for the excitement of a hunt.

With that, we all took off in our respective directions. Leah and I raced toward Sam's place at full speed, all the time sniffing for the sickly scent of vampire.

It was obvious why Sam put Leah and I on tracking duty. I had the best nose—yippee for me—and Leah was the fastest. We made a good team. I would point her in the right direction, and she would take off after the bloodsucker.

_If you keep fanning your ego like this, I think I might actually puke, _Leah growled.

_Shut up, Leah, _I replied angrily. _You know it's true. We're good at this shit. _

_That doesn't mean you have to brag about it like this—my poor baby brother has to listen to you rambling about how awesome I am. That's just not fair, Paul. _

_I'm not listening! _Seth replied in a sing-song voice that made both Leah and I roll our eyes.

_Leah, Paul, if you two could please…_Sam sighed, exasperated. Leah chuckled madly to herself. Apparently, irritating her ex never got old.

_Never, _she agreed.

_You smell that? _I asked. We were still about a quarter of a mile away from the house, but I was starting to pick up on the scent. It wasn't quite as sweet as vampires usually were…but then again, we were still pretty far away…actually, this scent was really kind of delicious. Maybe it wasn't a vampire. Maybe it was…

_Yummy,_ Leah commented. _Cookies. Way to go, Sherlock. _

_Yeah, yeah,_ I grumbled. _Whatever. Let's just check out the house. _

Leah sped ahead of me to the front of the house, and I made my way to the back, where Scar's room was. It wasn't hard to catch the vampire scent now—it was unmistakable this close up. It was obvious to me now that it had climbed up the side of the building, opened up the window, and snuck into the room. It had hidden in the closet, probably when Scar woke up and shrieked. The thing had managed to sneak back out the window, down the side of the house…and then where?

_Hah! Take a look at this, Paul. Maybe she's not as oblivious as we thought! _Leah exclaimed. I could see in her mind's eye that she was sitting right behind the line of trees, staring into the kitchen at a very tired looking Scarlett who was simultaneously pouring milk and staring back at Leah.

_Leah, stop that!_ I growled. _What if she recognizes you? _

_Well, don't give her too much credit, _Leah chuckled. _Scar's a bright kid and all…but I don't think anybody is expecting their friends to secretly be a giant werewolf. That would just be crazy. _

_Leah, I found the scent,_ I informed her urgently, already starting to follow it away from the house. _Shit, it's going toward the border, _I groaned. _Jared, be ready_, I warned him. _Leah and I are coming to help hold the line._

_Embry, Collin, we're going to keep near the town, _Sam instructed. _We have no idea what this leech will do. _

Tell me about it. This bloodsucker was crazy. Sneaking into the very heart of the wolf pack? How insane did you have to be to try a stunt like that…and then get away with it? Something told me we needed to be very, _very _careful of this guy.

About half a mile from the border—close enough to it that I was surprised the others hadn't picked it out yet—the trail I was following went cold. _Shit!_ I growled, retracing my steps until I found the scent again. I squinted, looking around. What was the most plausible course of action? If you were a vampire who liked to watch unsuspecting teenage girls sleep, where would you go?

_I would say the Cullen's place, because that was a pretty much spot-on description of our little mind-reading friend, but something tells me Jake would have clued us in on something like that, _Embry commented.

_Embry, watch out!_ I exclaimed. I could see the flash of white coming up on Embry—I dug my claws into the earth and made a break for it. Leaping up into the air, I collided with the leech with my teeth bared. I managed to take off a hand before we hit the ground…but then the leech wrapped its arms around me…

_SHIT! Newborn…! _I tried to warn them, but…I couldn't breathe. It was impossible to breathe…

**Sam's POV**

I saw Paul hit the vampire mid-air, ripping at its limbs as they dropped to the ground. But then…then the leech got its arms around Paul's chest, and squeezed.

A loud curse and a warning were the last things we heard from Paul before he blacked out. The entirety of the pack was now murderously angry. We formed a circle around the bloodsucker, growling menacingly._ Leah, Seth, I need you two to run to the Cullen's. Get the doctor, and bring him to your place, _I ordered. They ran off obediently, both of them too angry about what had happened to Paul to care that I was pulling them out of the fight. Once they were gone, I gave the howl that signaled an attack, and we charged.

We took the leech down without a problem. Eight on one were nearly impossible odds, unless you had some totally kick-ass special ability up your sleeve—which this newborn didn't seem to have. Once she was dead, I had Jared phase back out and light the match. He picked Paul up gingerly in his arms. "Lead the way, Sam," Jared insisted.

I took off for the Clearwater's, knowing Sue wouldn't mind and not wanting to worry Paul's mother too much. The good doctor was waiting for us when we got there, and held the door open for Jared and Paul.

_Quil, Embry, you've got the next patrol, _I informed them. _Make sure—_

_Yeah, I'll stick to your house, _Quil offered.

_Thank you, _I sighed. _Howl if you have any problems._

_Will do, Sam,_ Embry said tiredly. He and Quil took off to make their rounds of the reservation. I phased, pulling on my shorts before I entered the house to get Carlisle's medical analysis of Paul.

"We've got to stop running into each other like this, Carlisle," I chuckled, shaking my head sadly. "What's the word? Will he live?"

"He'll live," Carlisle confirmed. "Painfully for a while, maybe…but he'll live. I've given him an anesthetic for now. It's not as bad as with Jacob, luckily—Jared jarred him enough on the way over that the bones weren't given time enough to begin healing out of place. He'll have to stay the night here, but by tomorrow evening he should be able to move around a little. Nothing too extensive though," the doctor warned. "I want you to keep him off patrol for a week, Sam."

"Whatever you say, Doctor," I nodded in agreement. "Thank you so much, Carlisle."

"Any time, Sam," he nodded, smiling.

"Sam, Mom and Leah and I can handle it from here," Seth said gently. "Go home. We'll call if we need you, okay?"

"Thank you, Seth," I smiled, ruffling the kid's hair. "Get some sleep, kid," I ordered. "You've got another midnight shift tomorrow."

Seth groaned. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered. "Hey…who's going to fill Paul's spot?" he asked.

"I will," I answered. Of course I would; I was the adult, here—the rest of them were just kids…kids with two weeks of school left. "Night, Seth, Leah," I nodded to the two of them before heading out the door and starting the short walk home.

It was always a little…unnerving, being around Leah. Our relationship was the effect of one of the downsides to imprinting. Of course, now the boys use our relationship as an example—I don't think any of them have ever dated anyone but their imprint since first becoming what they are. I hadn't known about imprinting when I had been dating Leah. I'd hurt her…and I hated myself for it still.

I'd made lots of mistakes in my time. As the first wolf in La Push since the Cullen's had left Forks the last time a few decades ago, I'd had to learn as I went along. There was no manual, no instruction guide—all we had were the tribe stories, and our own experiences.

One of the biggest mistakes, for any pack member, though...that would be the loss of control. If we lost control, we lost _ourselves, _and that loss could have disastrous effects. Emily was living proof of these consequences. There wasn't a day that went by where I didn't regret scarring my imprint the way I had.

Then, of course, after that episode…I'd been so terrified of hurting anyone. I'd kept myself out of any and every situation where there was even the slightest possibility of me losing my temper. But then…that had had serious consequences, as well. Scarlett could have had that many less scars, if I'd just gone in and taken her away from our father. It would have been easy—Charlie would have been on my side one hundred percent. I could have done it…but I wasn't brave enough.

Why did the women I love always end up with scars?

"Sam! Sam, what happened?" Emily demanded, rushing down the steps to meet me. She threw her arms around me, kissing my face, my neck, my forehead. "Are you alright? Oh, Sam, I heard the howls…who was it, Sam? Who's hurt?"

"Paul," I sighed. "It was a newborn. It was about to break Embry's back—Paul knocked it out of the air, and saved his life."

"Paul," Emily sighed sadly. "He'll be alright, won't he?"

"Oh, yeah, he'll be fine," I nodded. "Dr. Cullen took a look at him. He should be good as new in a few days."

"Oh, good," Emily sighed. "Come inside—I made muffins."

I chuckled, kissing her on her scars. "I love you, so much. You know that?" I asked, still trailing kisses all the way down her arm until I reached her hand, where the claw-shaped scars stopped.

"Yes, dear, I know," she laughed, rolling her eyes a little. I knew she got tired of my obsession with her scars—she was over it now. She trusted me so much more completely than I trusted myself. She dragged me inside, pressing a finger to her lips before pointing to the couch where Scarlett was sleeping, a blanket draped neatly over her and her book lying on the coffee table, her spot marked neatly with a puppy-studded bookmark.

"Couldn't sleep?" I guessed.

"I guess not," Emily shrugged. "Oh, don't move her, Sam," she pleaded as I bent to pick her up. "She looks so…peaceful."

I guess she was right. I hadn't seen Scar this at ease since before Mom died. I knelt before my sister, and kissed her forehead. "You'd better appreciate everything we're doing," I murmured teasingly.

"Sam," Emily scolded, bringing me a hot muffin.

"Awe, she's a tough kid," I chuckled. "She can handle it."

"Sam, leave her alone," Emily laughed, dragging me away from the couch. "She's sleeping."

"You should get some sleep, too, Em," I suggested. "You look exhausted."

"Just let me clean up in here first," she yawned.

"I'll take care of the kitchen," I insisted, already directing her toward the bedroom. "Get some sleep."

"You have to sleep too, you know," Emily chided me. "You may be Superman, but you're not invincible."

"More like Wolverine," I teased her as we both laughed. I loved the way she had with words. "My adrenaline's going a little crazy still…I'll be in when I'm not so…" In the corner of my eye, I saw Scarlett's book fall off the table. The sound made me jump about a foot in the air. "…jumpy," I finished with a grimace. Emily just laughed, kissing my cheek before heading off to bed.

I picked up Scar's book, opening it up to the page she'd had marked:

"_Ron made a valiant effort to get up again but fell back with a whimper of pain. Lupin made toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped, _

"'Get away from me, werewolf!'_" (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban 456)._

I closed the book with a sigh, shaking my head. What a page to end on! I wondered what Scarlett would do when she found out. Would she be horrified? Disgusted? Disbelieving? Between the pack members' families and their imprints, we'd gotten just about every reaction in the book. I'd seen it all—and was ready for whichever reaction my sister might have.

As long as she didn't hate me when she found out…I'd be happy.

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><p><strong>Penny for your thoughts? ;)<strong>


	10. Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight!**

**Thanks for all the reviews! They make me smile! :)**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Nine<em>

_Scarlett's POV_

I pulled a bobby pin out of my hair, letting it fall loosely in dark waves down my back. I stuck the pin in the lock of the school's window and jiggled it around expertly until I heard the click. Smiling to myself, I pushed open the window and slid into the room.

Closing the window silently behind me, I strolled over to the old, out of tune piano sitting in the center of the school's music room. I didn't need to worry about someone hearing the break in—La Push Reservation High School wasn't big enough to have a proper security system, and honestly, who comes to school this early, especially on a Monday? Nobody, that's who—so instead of freaking out like I used to, I just calmly lifted up the piano's lid and ran my hands over the black and white keys.

I lifted my hands above the instrument, thinking for a moment about how I would proceed. What would I play? Claire de Lune was absolutely beautiful, one of my favorites; I'd bought the music online and had been working on memorizing it for over a year now. When I realized that I'd left my music in my room, I decided just to play something by ear—music was more fun that way. I closed my eyes, and brought my fingers down on the keys.

Music was my escape. When everything around me was tumbling and crashing and careening out of control, the music was one thing that I knew would never change. I mean, sure, every time I sat down to play something different was going to come out of the instrument, but I knew that music would always be there for me. It would never hurt me, would never tell me that I wasn't good enough. For someone who was always being torn down…it was nice to create something beautiful.

I was thinking about my father as I played. The result was an angry clash of dissonance, loud and nearly painful to hear. My fingers were flying under, over, across each other, pounding on the instrument until I felt something wet at the corners of my eyes. I kept going, letting the tears come. I hated crying as much as the next person, but…music brought out my vulnerable side better than anything. As I sat at the piano, pouring out my soul, I was reliving every beating, every word, every look…and it hurt.

But it was the healing kind of hurt, the kind that made you into a stronger person when it was all over.

How many times had I gone through with this ritual? After a particularly bad night with my father, I would sneak up to school early in the morning and play. I hadn't gone through with this since I'd come to live with Sam…I was happy living with him. But my dream the night before had shaken me, and, despite everything, I was still mourning my father. I'd felt like a little pick-me-up that morning…so I'd left.

When my fingers decided it was time, I lifted them off the keys, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. I would have to fix my makeup before class…but for now, I was the only one here, besides the janitors. They were used to me dropping in like this—in fact, I think they left the front door unlocked some mornings…but the window was way more fun.

I scooped up my book bag and began looking through it, digging until I found the small black notebook I always took with me when I played. When I finally found it—my bag was always a mess at the end of the year—I opened it up and flipped to the last page, where I'd been writing crazily the night before, after my little nightmare-conversation with my father.

As I read over the lines, they began to flow freely in my mind, riding on a melody I'd been playing a moment ago. I played it again, this time tweaking it a little to fit the words I'd written, until I could put them all together in a song. When I was satisfied, I jotted it all down in my spiral notebook, full of staff paper.

By the time I'd finished, the five minute bell was ringing. Luckily, the music room was located in an area of the building that was nearly deserted in the morning—there were no lockers in that area and nobody really started moving toward their classes until five minutes before class started, so I didn't think anyone had heard me.

I hurried to pack my things into my bag and slide the cover back over the piano's keys. Rushing out the door, I couldn't help but smile.

Music made me so happy.

* * *

><p>I slid into my seat in my IB Bio II class about ten seconds before the bell rang. Kim high fived me, grinning in appreciation of the ninja-like skill that allowed me to consistently arrive to class on time, no matter how close I was cutting it. She and I had been lab partners all year, and that was the way we liked it. We worked well together, unlike some of the other groups in the room.<p>

"As we discussed on Friday, today we will be beginning our dissections unit," our teacher, a middle-aged British gentleman with a dry sense of humor by the name of Mr. Grayson, announced. "I know some of you get squeamish and whatnot during these types of labs…so as encouragement to those of you who might try to opt out of the dissection, I am willing to grade these next two weeks of labs as your final exams for the semester."

A collective cheer went up in the room…but Kim and I just sort of glanced at each other. We both hated dissections. Although we both understood it from a scientific standpoint, neither of us saw the cutting up of dead animals as particularly moral.

"We'll start out the week with something small," Mr. Grayson continued. "There is a bag of deliciously preserved frogs sitting in the sink at the back. If you do get sick, please try to do so either in the rubbish bin, or on Mr. Black." We all laughed as Jacob squirmed uncomfortably up front. "Alrighty then! Instructions are on your tables, the frogs are in back, all your tools have been set out in your lab stations. Good luck, children—and try not to have too much fun."

We all got up and made our way to the back of the class to collect our frogs. Kim and I stayed at the back of the wave of excited students, not nearly as eager as our classmates.

"Do you think you'll get sick?" she asked me in a whisper, staring at the dead frog Jacob was carrying delightedly back to his lab station.

"I think I already am," I admitted. "One dissection, I can handle…but two weeks of dissections? I'd almost rather take the final."

"Yeah, me too," she nodded. But then, her eyes lit up, the way they only did when she had an incredible idea. "Jared! Paul!" she called hurrying over to the table in the back where they were still sitting, apparently waiting for the crowd to thin out before retrieving their frog.

Oh…right. Paul was in my Bio class. I guess I'd never noticed before.

"Yeah?" Jared acknowledged her, grinning.

"You want to switch lab partners with me until the end of the school year?" Kim asked delightedly.

"What?" I exclaimed. "Kim, I'm hurt! You're going to trade me out…for your boyfriend? You know that goes against, like, five best friend codes."

"Yeah, but if I don't do it, we'll both have to take the final. You'd be fine…but I'm gonna fail it. So…it's really for our own good, Scar," she explained, taking my hands in hers. "I never wanted to hurt you. I just…"

"I can't even bear to look at you right now," I gasped, turning my head dramatically over my shoulder as I pulled my hands out of her grasp. I then began storming off in the other direction. Of course, Paul didn't quite get the memo, so I had to go back for him. Turning around in a huff, I marched toward him and whispered in his ear, "This is the part where you and I storm off angrily into the sunset," I reminded him.

"Oh, right," he stage-whispered back.

I grabbed his arm, and resumed my angry storming.

Rubbing his hands together like some super-villain in a children's cartoon, Paul grinned maniacally down at me and asked, "Who's ready to cut up a frog?"

"You know, that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be!" I exclaimed happily as Paul and I finished recording our findings on the worksheet Mr. Grayson had handed out. "It was kind of…fun!" I laughed.

"Fun? Are you joking?" Kim scoffed. "It was absolutely disgusting. I swear I saw ours move. It was like…totally unethical, cutting up poor Bennie."

"Bennie?" I asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Well…yeah," she shrugged. "He looked like a Benjamin. So…I called him Bennie."

"Maybe dissections wouldn't bother you so much if you didn't name the organism before you start cutting it to pieces," I advised her with a smile. "Here, Paul—I'll wash, you dry," I offered, taking up our equipment and bringing it all over to the sink.

"Did you guys cut open the stomach?" Jared asked as he began washing his tools."

"Yeah," I grinned, watching Kim out of the corner of my eye, knowing that I probably sounded like a fourteen year old boy who had just finished up with his very first frog dissection—in the 8th grade. "I think we got a fly, or something. It was all black and mushed up, and—"

"Scar…not cool," Kim groaned, her hand covering her mouth.

Seeing Kim's face actually turn a light shade of green at my description, Paul began laughing hysterically. The whole scene was something out of a Saturday morning cartoon.

"Sorry, babe," Jared apologized for his friend, who was clearly not sorry.

"Come on, Kim, I was just teasing. It's not that bad," I laughed, rubbing soap onto the metal instrument in my hand. "You're just thinking about it too much." Meanwhile, Paul was still laughing—he was laughing so hard, it looked like he was having issues breathing.

It was then that I realized he really wasn't breathing. His eyes were wide, and he was clutching his ribs…but it looked like he was suffocating.

"Oh, shit," I heard Jared mutter as he saw Paul begin to fold over himself. Jared caught him right before he hit the ground.

"Mr. Grayson!" I called to the teacher, feeling panicked but knowing that now wasn't a great time to freak out. "Mr. Grayson, Paul…" I wasn't quite sure how to explain what had happened. One second, he'd been laughing, the next…he couldn't breathe. How did that happen?

"Jared…take Paul to the nurse," Mr. Grayson instructed.

"Jared…is there anything I can do?" I asked, wringing my hands worriedly, desperately wanting to do something to help Paul, especially since I was the one who had made him laugh. If he suffocated and died…oh, God, it would be all my fault! First my father, now Paul…I felt tears forming in the corners of my eyes, and I honestly thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown.

"Nah…he'll be fine," Jared sighed, shaking his head. "You stay here, Scar," he instructed, carrying Paul out the door as if he were a small child.

"Your boyfriend is a beast," I murmured to Kim, trying to keep my head on straight.

"You have no idea," she chuckled. "And…don't worry too much about Paul, okay? He's going to be just fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she promised me. "He's a beast, too, you know."

Was it just me, or was there something like irony in her eyes?

I know Kim and Jared had both told me not to worry…but I couldn't help it. Paul…well, he meant a lot to me. Much more than I cared to admit…much more than was probably even healthy. If something happened to him, it would probably kill me. I was about ready to have a panic attack by the time I got to lunch that day.

When I sat down at the lunch table with Kim and Jared and the other guys who hung out around Sam's place, I turned to Kim and whispered, "Is Paul…?"

"I haven't seen him," Kim responded. "I think…Jared texted me during third hour; Paul's mom came and called Jared and Paul out of school, and they took Paul to the hospital over in Forks."

"Oh." I sat there at the table for a moment, moving my food around my tray…until I realized that I wasn't hungry anymore. "I'm gonna go," I announced softly, my hands suddenly itching to play. "I'll see you in class."

"Alright, honey," Kim nodded. She knew where I was going—we used to eat lunch together in the music room, before the choir director had caught us and written in Sharpie "This means YOU, Scarlett Uley!" underneath the "No Food or Drink" sign on the door. After handing my lunch over to Seth—it seemed like he never really could eat enough—I snuck out of the cafeteria and over to the other side of the building.

Since the student body was small enough to fit everyone in one lunch shift—teachers included—I knew for a fact that the music room would be empty and open for me. I slid in behind the piano, and let loose.

I was in my own little world as I played—a bubble that protected me from the outside world…and blinded me to my surroundings. It was why I never played when I knew others could hear me—I was oblivious when I played…and also extremely vulnerable. I bared my very soul to the world when I was at the piano; there are only a select few people in this world whom I could trust enough to let them see me like that.

Like I had that morning before school, I also often tended to loose track of time when I was in the music room. Luckily for me, I had an amazing best friend who would come to get me on her way to class. I didn't hear the door swing open, but I felt Kim's hand on my shoulder. I looked up at my friend and asked, "Time to go already?"

She glanced over my shoulder, and then broke out into a mischievous sort of smile. "Yup. Come on, you two. Time to get back to reality." She left the room, chuckling.

Wait a second…you _two? _Unless she was talking about the band (you know, U-2? Ha ha, I'm so hilarious!), then there was someone else in the room with me, listening. I spun a round, wondering who it was who had snuck in while I was playing. When my eyes caught sight of a pair of deep, dark blue eyes…I nearly screamed with delight as I jumped up to give Paul a hug. "Paul!" I exclaimed, feeling extremely relieved now that he was here and clearly not dead or dying. "How long have you been in here?"

"About five minutes," he admitted. "I heard you playing and…well. It was beautiful."

I didn't know what to say. I was baring my very soul when I played. Paul…well, let's just say that Paul telling me that my playing was beautiful sent the butterflies in my stomach on a rampage. "Oh…thanks," I smiled, blushing a little. "How are you feeling? You gave us all a scare in Bio this morning. I'm…so, so sorry, Paul," I apologized, hanging my head. I knew it had been my fault, and I felt like apologizing was only the civil, responsible thing to do under the circumstances.

"You don't need to apologize, Scar," he chuckled. "Besides, I'm fine," he shrugged. "It was no big deal. We'd better get to class," he reminded me. I glanced at the clock and cursed. If Paul was trying to change the subject, it had sure worked—we were nearly late to class already, and I'd always been paranoid about getting places on time.

I hurried to close the piano and grab my bag. Then, I took Paul's hand in mine and began to drag him out the door and to our next class.

That day after school, I was walking out to the car with Kim when someone caught me by the elbow. I twirled around in surprise, ready to punch someone in the face if necessary—I was vicious like that—but smiled hugely when I realized it was Paul. "Hey," I greeted him, his touch on my arm warming me through to my toes.

"Hey," he replied with a grin. "I was going to stop by Sam's place after school…and I was wondering if you'd like a ride home?"

"I…" I looked to Kim, confused. I had a ride home…but if Paul was going to the same place, then wouldn't that be more efficient? Better for the environment, and all? I didn't want to ditch Kim…but the way Paul was staring at me right now…

"She says yes," Kim answered for me after a while. "I'll talk to you later, Scarlett," she grinned, giving me a hug. "If you don't answer your phone, you'll die," she warned, whispering in my ear. "See you two on the flip side!" she called to us, heading in the other direction toward her car.

"Thank you, Paul," I smiled sheepishly at him.

"No problem," he shrugged. "I'm over here." Paul took my hand in his, leading me toward his car.

The drive home was really nice. Paul and I talked about little things that had happened at school that week, and continued our ninja vs. pirate discussion from the Clearwater's party that weekend. But, as we were sitting in front of my house, I couldn't help but wonder what he was doing there.

"So. Why are you going to see Sam?" I asked, curious.

"Nothing serious," he replied, unbuckling his seatbelt. "I wanted to talk to him about a job," he elaborated when he saw the confused look on my face. He got out of the car, and walked around to the passenger side to open up the door for me.

"You want to be a mechanic?" I scoffed, taking his hand as he helped me out of the car. "Seriously?"

"Well…I guess," he shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Paul, but that is a total waste of your…your awesomeness," I scolded him. I grabbed my book bag and closed the truck door behind me.

"I'm not that awesome," he laughed.

"Yeah, you are!" I argued. "You can do anything you want to, Paul. You're smart enough, and talented enough…and…well…I just think you're meant for bigger things than fixing up other people's cars for the rest of your life," I shrugged. I was being a little nosey…but if Paul thought he was going to be a mechanic when he grew up, then he obviously needed to hear what I had to say.

"What if I like fixing up other people's cars?" he demanded.

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it, Paul," I called him out, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly. "You did not spend the last four years in school to become a mechanic. You did not take all advanced classes this year to become a _mechanic_."

Paul just laughed, his hands resting on my shoulders as he looked down at me. "Scarlett…I have my reasons, for doing what I'm doing," he assured me. "I know you think I'm just throwing away everything I've worked for, but…there are more important things to me than what _I _want."

"Paul…"

"But I appreciate what you're trying to do here," he smiled, resting a hand gently on my cheek. "It's…adorably sweet of you."

"Paul! Just the man I wanted to see!" Sam exclaimed from the front porch. Paul pulled his hand away quickly before my big brother could see, and I remembered his comment from the other day, about being afraid of Sam. "Come on out back and we'll talk," my brother invited Paul, giving him a winning smile before heading toward the backyard.

"Be right there, Sam!" he called to my brother as Sam disappeared behind the house. "I'll talk to you later, Scar," he promised me. He began to walk away, but then stopped in his tracks. Suddenly, he was taking long strides back toward me.

"Paul, what are you—"

But then his mouth was on mine, and I could hardly breathe, much less talk. It was spontaneous, and warm, and wonderful…and I never wanted it to end. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him closer. "Thank you," he whispered against my lips. "For caring."

Sam yelled for him again, and, cursing in what seemed to me to be frustration, Paul took off at a run around the back of the house toward the garage where Sam was impatiently waiting for him. Meanwhile, I was left weak in the knees, hardly able to believe that I wasn't merely dreaming. I floated upstairs to my room in a daze.

Well. I sure hadn't seen that one coming.

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><p><strong>Penny for your thoughts? ;)<strong>


	11. Chapter Ten

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

**Oh. My. Gosh. I can't even tell you how sorry I am it's taken me this long to update this story. I've had the next at least five chapters written for nearly a year now. I'm seriously sorry. If there's anyone still out there...you're awesome. :)**

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><p><em>Chapter Ten<em>

_Sam's POV_

I woke up that morning to the sound of the telephone ringing.

"I've got it," I announced before Emily could even get out of bed, stretching my arms over my head as I made my way to the kitchen. "Sam Uley," I answered, stifling a yawn.

"Sam? This is Carlisle."

"Did something happen?" I demanded, suddenly on full alert. "Leah, the boys, they're all alright?"

"They're fine," the doctor chuckled. "I just wanted to inform you that we've identified the vampire you and your pack caught the other night—the one that got hold of Paul."

"Oh," I sighed, relaxing immensely. "Who was she?"

"Based on your descriptions of her, we've managed to identify her as Stephanie Cray, a waitress at a small bar in Forks," he responded.

"She was from Forks?" I asked, incredulous. "A newborn from Forks?"

"I'm afraid so," Carlisle confirmed.

"Shit," I grumbled. "Well…thanks for calling, Carlisle."

"Of course. Good luck."

"Thanks," I sighed, hanging up the phone. I shuffled back to the dark bedroom, grabbing my phone from its place on top of the dresser. Scarlett was gone—which meant the boys were all at school, as well. I called Leah first; she'd graduated the same year I had, and nearly always kept her phone nearby, as most women in their twenties are prone to do.

"Sam? What happened?" she demanded, answering on the first ring. One of the things I'd always loved about Leah—she got right to the point. Leah was smart enough to know that I'd never call her unless I had to; not because I didn't want to talk to her, but because she liked it better that way. When Jake had split away from the pack, Leah had been one of the first to join him…mostly to get away from me.

"They've ID'd the vampire from the other night."

"The one who was creeping on Scarlett?" Leah demanded, sounding vicious at the memory of the sickly sweet vampire scent outside my sister's window. She and my sister had been close, when Leah and I were together. Sometimes, I suspected that Leah might still think of Scar as her own sister.

"Yeah," I nodded. "We're having a pack meeting today, after the boys get out of school. Is that a bad time for Sue?"

"Umm…actually…it is," Leah sighed apologetically. "Mom's doing some major end-of-the-school-year cleaning…and it's best to leave her alone when she gets like that. Especially since Dad died. Sorry, Sam."

"No, it's fine,"' I assured her. "Sue needs time to herself. I get it, believe me. We can just…have the meeting here, in the garage out back. Three o'clock."

"I don't know what kind of problem you have telling Scarlett everything now, but you've got to get over it soon, Sam. Meeting in your garage? There's oil everywhere, and it smells like grease. It's nasty."

"I'll tell her when I think she's ready," I sighed, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Dealing with Leah anymore was…trying on my patience, to say the least.

"Ugh, whatever," she grumbled. "I'll be there."

She hung up before I could get the chance to say goodbye—but that was just Leah anymore. Snappy, full of attitude, sarcastic, and dry, she had totally transformed since we dated back in high school. She was closer to the Leah I knew in school now than she had been when she first phased…but she still could be just vicious when she wanted. Of course, I _had_ imprinted on a cousin of hers…but I wish she hadn't taken it so hard.

Besides, it's not like it was easy for me, either.

Shaking my head, I opened up a new text message, getting the time and location of our meeting out to the boys. Hoping that I wasn't getting anyone a detention this close to the end of the school year, I hit "send", and folded the phone back up into my pocket.

To my surprise, Emily was still asleep—usually she didn't sleep this late. Since I was up before her, for once, I made my way to the kitchen and turned on the stove, setting a pan over one of the burners. Then, I pulled out a bowl and several eggs. I was just getting ready to crack them open when my cell phone rang.

I pulled it out of my pocket and answered, turning my head so that the phone was pressed between my shoulder and my ear. "Sam Uley," I answered, cracking the eggs into the bowl. I hadn't done this in a while—I'd been a fairly skilled chef before I'd met Emily, but she loved to cook so much that she used to practically beg me to let her do all the cooking when she first moved in. I was, quite frankly, out of practice.

"Sam, oh, thank God," Jared breathed. "I'm with Paul and Dr. Cullen in the ER."

"What are you doing there?" I demanded, alarmed. Wolves rarely went to the ER—we healed fast enough on our own, we usually didn't need medical attention. In fact, if it weren't for Carlisle , we wouldn't be able to get medical attention if we needed it; any other doctor would know something was up when they saw the chromosome count. Dr. Cullen was, quite literally, our lifesaver.

Since Jared had taken Paul to the ER, I knew something serious must have gone down. Combine that with Paul's little encounter the other night? I was feeling somewhere between concerned for Paul's safety, and flat-out pissed. "What did Paul do?" I growled.

"He just laughed," Jared explained, sounding a little in awe. "He was talking to Kim and your sister in Bio after dissections, and someone said something funny, so he laughed, like anyone else would have…I guess he cracked a rib or something, 'cause Dr. Cullen says he's got a punctured lung."

"I told him to take it easy today," I snarled, crushing an egg in my hand. Cursing, I walked over to the sink to wash the runny, sticking substance away with soap and water. Of course, it would be Paul in the ER. He couldn't keep his temper under control for the life of him. However, he was still a member of my pack, my brother, and I was just as worried for Paul as I would have been for any other pack member. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah, he's fine. You want to talk to him?" Jared asked hesitantly.

"Yes," I growled, angrily grabbing a new egg out of the refrigerator.

"Sam…hey! Long time, no…ah…talk," Paul began nervously. He knew he was going to get chewed out for this, didn't he?

"I told you to relax today," I reminded him. "I told you to stay home, chill for a day or two. Didn't you hear what Dr. Cullen said? Your ribs are going to take_ time_ to _heal._ They're brittle, weak, still. Even laughing too hard could cause them to crack."

"Well, yeah, I figured that out today," Paul noted, a grimace in his voice. "Thanks for the warning, by the way."

"Don't get smart with me, Paul," I seethed. "Look. I'm pissed because…well, you're my brother, and I don't like seeing you get hurt. But when the person hurting you is _you_…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Paul muttered. "Look, I'll be more careful, okay? The good Doctor says I'm fine, now…he reset the rib and it should be healed within the next couple hours. When he clears me, I'll head back up to school like nothing happened. No secret blown, no damage done."

"You can't just go back to school after puncturing a lung," I scoffed.

"It's not punctured anymore, Sam," he sighed. "It's fine. The thing about being a werewolf, is we heal kind of fast."

I rolled my eyes, annoyed with Paul and his attitude. "Stay home and get some rest," I ordered. "We don't need you off patrol any longer than you have to be."

"Look…I have to go back," Paul sighed.

"Why?" I demanded.

There was a stagnant sort of pause, and I knew Paul was debating on whether to tell me the truth or not. Finally, he spoke, with a resignation in his tone that told me he wasn't lying—or that he is a marvelous actor. "Your sister," he admitted.

I growled. "What about my sister?" Was I a little overprotective? Sure, but that's what big brothers are for, am I right?

"She…she thinks it's her fault," Paul replied. "I was talking to her in Biology and she said something funny—your sister is hilarious, by the way—and I laughed, and Jared had to carry me off to the nurse, and I'm pretty sure she thinks it's her fault I got hurt. Plus, she thinks I'm way worse off than I am, since you haven't let her in on the secret yet. So…I have to go back to school so she knows I'm okay and isn't freaking out about how horrible a person she is until the next time I see her."

"Oh." I blinked in surprise, pouring milk and a few spices in with the eggs and stirring mindlessly. Paul had hit my sister spot-on; I hadn't though anyone knew her as well as I did, but I guess Paul was more observant than I gave him credit for. Not only that, but he seemed to genuinely _care. _Don't get me wrong, it was nice—there were way too many people trying to take advantage of my sweet, loving baby sister—but it was so completely out of character for Paul.

Was there no one my sister couldn't win over?

Well…other than our father—but that wasn't her fault, really. According to Scar, Dad had been a total drunk from the moment I graduated from high school and moved out of the house. He'd always been a little more careful around me—probably because I was about twice his size.

"Well…fine, do whatever you have to, Paul," I approved, shaking my head. "Just…take care of yourself, okay?"

"Will do, Sam," he replied. "See you at the meeting."

He'd hung up. I sighed, shaking my head as I scrambled the eggs in a pan. I'd always been a fan of hard-boiled eggs…but scrambled was Emily's favorite. If I was lucky, these would end up half as delicious as Em's version of the classic breakfast.

I set the stove on low to keep the eggs warm before heading back to the refrigerator. Finding some bacon and a case of fresh strawberries, I brought everything back to the kitchen counter. The bacon I set on a plate between two paper towels (to soak up extra grease—Em hated when there was more grease than bacon—and stuck the whole thing in the microwave. I then washed up the strawberries and began cutting.

I'm not sure exactly how long I was in the kitchen before Emily decided to join me. She looked tired, although I'd never seen her sleep that late since we moved in together a few years ago. She lifted her nose, smelling the bacon, eggs, toast, and strawberries around her, and smiled.

"Sam, you made breakfast," she observed happily.

"Just for you, my dear," I replied, grinning like an idiot. It didn't take much to make me happy- as long as Emily was smiling, I was, too. The others, the members of the pack without imprints, saw it as disgusting—pathetic, even. But the rest of us knew. Having an imprint, making them smile…well. That feeling was even better than taking down a vampire.

"It smells delicious," she sighed, staring longingly at the cheese-covered, bacon-filled pan of scrambled eggs on the stove.

"Sit down," I instructed, leading her gently to the kitchen table. I poured her a glass of orange juice and handed it to her. She took a sip, smiling up at me and watching as I got a plate together for her. I handed her the plate and some silverware. "Here," I murmured, kissing her on the forehead.

"Thank you," she smiled.

I watched her for a while as I got my own plate together. She was, of course, as beautiful as ever—deep brown eyes, dark hair flowing over her shoulders, the sort of posture that you don't really see much anymore the way kids tended to slouch these days…she held the scars I so regretted giving her with a sort of pride.

Watching her as carefully as I was, I couldn't help but notice that she was looking a little pale.

"Em, are you feeling alright?" I asked, sitting down next to her and examining her face.

"I'm fine, Sam," she replied. "I…didn't sleep well last night."

"Why?" I pressed, wondering if maybe she was having nightmares. Usually she was the best at dealing with the stress of being a werewolf's imprint…but maybe it was getting to her? I knew she worried about all of us…and if that was the reason for her lack of sleep, I wanted to make sure she knew that worry was completely unnecessary.

"I'm not sure, really," she shrugged. "But this breakfast…it's delicious. Thank you so very much Sam." She smiled at me again, and—this is going to sound incredibly cliché, but bear with me—and I swear my heart melted.

"I love you so much, Em," I murmured, pulling her chin forward and kissing her on the lips.

"I love you, too," she returned happily, pulling away to take another bite of her toast, her eyes dancing wickedly as she teased me. I just rolled my eyes, and ate my breakfast.

Emily and I spent a calm, peaceful day together. It was nice…sitting in an empty house without ten riled-up teenage boys around. I loved the pack…but I also loved when the pack was at school. My fiancée and I could never get enough time to just be together, alone.

...

"So. What's the emergency?" Brady asked cheerily as he bounced into my garage as our pack meeting commenced. He pushed a few wrenches to the side and hopped up on my work table, eager for some exciting news. Brady always wanted to get in on the action; unfortunately for him, there were several older, more experienced wolves who were more than willing to take the brunt of the "excitement" for our youngest pup.

"Chill for a sec, Brady," Jared laughed, putting a hand on the younger wolf's shoulder. "Not everyone's here yet. Paul did say he was coming, didn't he?" he asked, turning to me with curiosity in his eyes.

"Yeah…yeah, he did," I nodded with a frown. I was about to pull out my phone and give him a call when I heard his car pull up. "Finally," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. When, after a couple minutes Paul still hadn't made his way out to the garage, Brady offered to run up to the house and get him.

"No, you stay here," I sighed. "I'll get him. Be right back, boys," I assured the pack before jogging up toward the house.

I went in through the back door, giving Emily a quick kiss before making my way through the house and out the front door. "Paul!" I exclaimed as I closed the door quietly behind me. "Just the man I wanted to see! Come on out back and we'll talk," I finished carefully as I noticed that Scarlett was standing next to the werewolf in my driveway.

I gave him a nice, big, sarcastic smile, knowing that my sweet baby sister wouldn't see the irritation in my eyes. Not only was Paul late to the meeting, but he was late because he was talking up my little sister. That just wasn't cool with me. But then again…the pack knew what could happen, if you got into a relationship with someone who wasn't your imprint. They'd seen it happen, with me and Leah. They all knew better, even Paul.

Maybe he was just being friendly?

Before I could do or say something stupid—I obviously had no idea what was going on here—I took off for the garage, trusting that Paul would be along momentarily.

"Took you long enough," Quil muttered when Paul finally stepped through the doors to the garage. "What did you do, crawl home from school?"

"I drove Sam's little sister," Paul replied, glaring at Quil defiantly. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Boys, settle down," I sighed, shaking my head. Sometimes, I got the feeling that being pack Alpha was more of a babysitting job than anything else. "We've got a real problem on our hands. Carlisle called me this morning with an ID on our friend from the other night. She was a newborn, from Forks."

I gave them a moment to digest this new piece of information, hoping they would connect the dots the way I had. That was the cool part about being part of this pack—every once in a while, we got to think like cops.

"You mean there's another vampire out there?" Seth guessed without skipping a beat.

"Bingo," I nodded, patting the pup on the back.

"So, someone sent a newborn after your sister?" Jared clarified. "Are you sure it's safe for her to be in the house alone right now?"

"There was another vampire in the woods that night," Paul murmured under his breath.

"Paul? What are you talking about?" Embry demanded. "You only found one trail. Remember? You followed it from the house to the border."

"No, I lost the trail," Paul remembered. "I was trying to pick it back up again when the leech we got tried to kill you. The bloodsucker we caught…it wasn't the same one that climbed in your sister's window, Sam. The smell was…off—similar, but different. Someone created a newborn, planted her in the woods. The first vampire managed to lose me…and his newborn attacked before I could pick up the trail."

"So, you're saying that we've got ourselves a vampire who doesn't have an issue in creating newborns and sending them on suicide missions?" Jared asked. "This isn't good."

"When you say it smelled similar…do you mean that our vampire might have been from around Forks?" I questioned Paul. The environment in which a vampire lived its human life can sometimes have an impact on a vampires scent after it's been changed. If you have two vampires from the same area, their scents can sometimes be so similar that it would be possible to mistake one for the other.

"Definitely," Paul nodded.

"But there haven't been any killings since the Volturi's last visit," Jacob commented. "Vampires everywhere know we're working with the Cullen's. The only bloodsuckers that come through here anymore are lone nomads. We would have known if there was a seasoned killer living on the reservation."

"This has to be another newborn," Jared decided.

"There's no way," Brady disagreed. "The only newborn I've ever seen with enough control to change someone was Bella, and she'd known all about werewolves and vampires for years."

Embry nodded emphatically. "The kid's got a point, Sam. This guy chose his newborn carefully. He picked someone from the same town, with the same sort of lifestyle so that the scents would be similar. He knew we'd be looking for him, and he knew there were too many of us for him to win in a fight."

"It had to be a newborn," Collin disagreed. "He's from Forks, we know that for sure, but there haven't been any missing person's reports in over two months. This guy was changed so recently, nobody's noticed he's gone."

I listened carefully as my pack speculated, the wheels in my mind spinning the whole time. Who could this newborn be? He hadn't turned up missing yet…which meant that at least five days, and nobody had realized he was gone. Forks was a small town—people didn't just disappear without someone noticing.

"Well…we know he's got a similar lifestyle to our first vampire," Jared mused. "What was she, a waitress?"

"At a bar, yeah," I confirmed, my tone detached as I continued to puzzle the situation out.

"So…he hung out at the bar. There's only two in the entire area—one on the reservation, one in the city where the newborn we caught worked," Leah commented.

He drank, he's been missing for about a week without anyone noticing, he lived in Forks, and he had to have known about werewolves before he was changed. My palms began to sweat a little as all the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together.

"Sam," Paul said, getting my attention. He looked me in the eye, and at that moment, I knew that we'd both reached the same conclusion.

It was then that we heard it—the long, drawn out scream, coming from the house. Moments later, Emily pulled open the garage door, determination written on her face. "Sam, your father's here," she announced, holding onto my arm. "He brought another newborn. They have Scarlett. He…he wants _you_, Sam."

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><p><strong>I know, I'm evil. A year without an update and I leave you with a cliffhanger. :)<strong>

**I'll try to get the next chapter up soon! Thank you SO MUCH for your incredible patience!**


	12. Chapter Eleven

**__****Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight:)**

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><p><em>Chapter Eleven<em>

_Scarlett's POV_

My lips were still tingling from the surprise kiss Paul and I had shared before he'd hurried off after my brother. It was the weirdest, most wonderful feeling, being kissed by Paul. I'd been kissed before, sure…but somehow, with that quick, fleeting little brush of his lips Paul had left me with my knees shaking and heart pounding at a million beats per minute.

I'd never come across someone who had this kind of effect on me before. The touch of his lips…it was like a narcotic. My adrenaline was rushing; my cheeks were bright red and the world itself seemed a little brighter than it had five minutes earlier. I wasn't feeling at all like myself, but that was okay. I hadn't been this happy in a long, long time.

"Scarlett, could you come help me fix dinner, please?" Emily called from downstairs. "Your brother's having a few friends over tonight."

"Sure, no problem!" I exclaimed gleefully as I floated down the stairs, still grinning like an idiot.

"Could you start by chopping the lettuce? It's taco night," Emily announced as I entered the kitchen. She dropped a handful of ground beef into a pan over the stove before turning to me. "What are you so happy about?" Emily laughed, seeing my expression.

"Oh, nothing," I replied coyly as I dug through the refrigerator for the head of lettuce. I stuck the vegetable under the sink and began to wash it off.

"Is Kim feeling okay?" she asked innocently. "Usually she drops in to say hello when she drives you home."

"Oh…Kim didn't drive me today," I admitted, still smiling. "Paul, actually, offered to drive me, since he was coming here after school anyway."

"Ah, I see," she grinned, looking over her shoulder to give me a knowing look. "And how is Paul?"

"He's great," I nodded, still smiling so much my face was beginning to hurt. "Paul's just…great."

I guess the source of my sunshine-y attitude was more obvious than I'd thought…or maybe Emily was just more perceptive than I'd realized. As long as she didn't tell Sam, I didn't care if she knew. It was nice to have someone around that understood why I was acting so crazy.

I'd chopped up enough lettuce to feed an army and was just moving on to the tomatoes when someone knocked on the door. "I'll get it," I announced before Emily could even offer. I put down the knife, and walked through the kitchen and the living room until I got to the front door.

"Can I help you?" I asked as the door swung open.

"I do believe you can," a cold, familiar voice laughed.

It took me a moment to fully register what I was seeing. I'd believed the man before me to be dead, after all—I hadn't exactly been expecting him to show up on the front porch.

"Dad?" I gasped, my eyes wide.

"Hello, sweetheart," he grinned at me, his eyes twinkling with that same cold, cruel brand of amusement I'd seen in all of my worst nightmares. I'd thought he was dead—that his return was an impossibility. Yet here he was. His skin was paler than before, and his eyes were shining a ruby red…but other than that, he was just the same as always.

"How…what are you doing here?" I breathed, scared out of my wits. Some primal instinct in me was telling me to run…to run fast and far and as soon as possible. But I couldn't—I was frozen.

"I was just in the neighborhood," he chuckled, his expression mocking mine. "I thought I'd stop by, say hello. Emily always was the most wonderful cook." He lifted his nose in the air and inhaled deeply. "Mmm! Taco night—my favorite. Emily, you don't have enough for me and my friend here, do you?" he called.

As if they'd planned it, a tall, surly, broad-shouldered man with the same pale skin and red eyes strolled behind my father into the house, shutting the door behind him, giving me a devilish smile.

"You're supposed to be dead," Emily stated, her face pale but her eyes determined. "You and your…little friend," she gave the giant a dirty look, "get the hell out of my house."

"Ah…but I'd always heard you were so hospitable," my father sighed as he expressed his disappointment. "You took Scarlett in, after all. What a shame it was to lose her…we'd always had so much…_fun_ together." His red eyes turned to me, and suddenly I was back in that house, my father standing over me screaming, a knife glinting in the moonlight.

"Don't touch me," I ordered, my eyes wide as I backed away from him.

"When Sam and his lovely fiancée here took you in, I do believe they forgot about one tiny little detail," my father smiled, his eyes laughing gleefully as he watched the chilling fear begin to make its way through my system. "Legally, you're still my kid, Scar. I can do whatever the hell I want to you. You live with _me_, remember?"

"No," I argued, shaking my head as I backed away. "I'm never going back with you. Never."

"Really?" he chuckled. "Who would stop me from just…taking you away?"

Emily came forward and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to her side. "She's with me and Sam now," Emily insisted, her eyes narrowed in the most impressive death glare I've ever seen. "She's not going anywhere—especially not with you."

My dad nodded to his little friend, and suddenly, Emily was lying in a heap on the floor, and I had a knife pressing precariously under my chin.

"Emily!" I exclaimed. My father pressed the knife closer.

"Don't say a word," he hissed in my ear. "If you want to save that precious little baby of yours," he murmured in Emily's direction, "You'll get out of here, right now, and go pull my son out of his little meeting in the garage."

"You've been watching the house, haven't you?" she demanded, her voice shaking as she pressed her hand against her lower belly.

"You three really aren't very interesting, you know," he sighed, pulling the knife away for a moment to scrape what looked suspiciously like dried blood out from under his fingernails. "I'd much rather be out doing something exciting, but no…no, I was biding my time, waiting until I had my darling little girl alone. Carlos, help my dear son's fiancée to the door."

The stranger grabbed Emily roughly by the arm and began dragging her to the door. "No!" she exclaimed, fighting all the way. Eventually, the man—Carlos—picked her up, carried her outside and tossed her out into the yard. "You have five minutes!" my father shouted out the door before turning to me with an evil grin.

"Now. I haven't seen you in so long, Scarlett. How about you and I get…reacquainted?"

"Dad…please," I begged, tensing up as he brought the cool steel blade closer toward me. "Don't. Don't do this, not again, please."

"Why are you so anxious, sweetheart?" he murmured, sliding the flat side of the blade down my cheek harmlessly. "Relax already."

By now, too many memories were rushing back to me…I was drowning in wave after wave of my own repressed recollections. The past week and a half of unexpected happiness had made me soft. I couldn't just ignore the fear like I used to—it was sharp and cold like the blade against my skin.

"You thought you could stay here, did you?" my father hissed in my ear. "You thought you were good enough to stay away from a bad man like me? Look around you, sweetheart. This place…it's so clean, so innocent, so unblemished. You don't belong here. Look at all the scars on your arms, your legs—they'll never go away, honey. You'll never belong in a place like this. You don't deserve a home like this."

"Sam thinks I'm good enough," I whimpered, my eyes squeezed shut as I prayed he wouldn't hit me. "He won't let you take me away. Not again."

"Hah! Don't make me laugh, Scar," my father chuckled. "Sam took you in because if he didn't, I'd have killed you. It would have tarnished the reputation he's worked so hard to keep squeaky clean. He's always known what I did to you, you know that? He'd go to his parties on the weekends…he knew what happened when you and I were alone, even then. He knew, and he didn't tell anyone because he was afraid it would make him look bad. He's ashamed of you—of us."

"That's not true," I argued, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. "Sam's the best man I've ever known—he's so much better than you ever were. Mom would be proud of him. If Mom knew what you've become…she'd be sick!" I tried to push my father away from me, but he was strong—so much stronger than he'd ever been before. He cried out in rage as he tossed me against the wall, managing somehow to take a slice at my ribcage as I flew through the air. I hit the wall, and let out a long, blood-curdling scream.

"There you go," he laughed as my shouts turned into pathetic whimpers. "Scream, darling. Scream all you want! We'll see if your big brother comes to save you this time!"

"Get away from me!" I cried, tears now flowing like waterfalls down my face as I backed up against the wall, curling up into the smallest target I could manage.

Moving like lightning, so fast he was barely a blur, my father took another slash at me, cutting deep into the muscle of my left arm. I let out another scream, the pain in my side and my arm nearly causing me to black out. But I'd had much worse before, and I knew from previous experience that if I did pass out, I would just get a rougher beating by the time my father was finished.

The monster was smiling at me, the look in his eye telling me he was about to strike another time when a big furry _something_ jumped through the window. Glass flew everywhere, and shards—some bigger than others—found their way into the skin of my legs. The animal gave me an apologetic whimper as it nuzzled me with its nose. I sat there frozen in shock, horrified.

"Well, Sam, it's about time you got here!" my father exclaimed with a maniacal sort of laugh. "I thought I was going to have to kill this precious little sister of yours!"

At that comment, the furry creature let out a feral grown and grabbed my father by the arm with its teeth. It tossed him viciously out the window and onto the lawn, where the two of them began to circle each other, hissing and growling like a cat and a dog sizing each other up before a battle. My dad's friend dashed after them, and the three started to fight.

"Sam?" I murmured, feeling dazed, my head pounding from its impact with the wall. Did he actually think that gigantic ball of fur was my brother? What was my dad on? I tried to sit up, to go after them…it seemed important, for the three _things_ on the lawn not to get into a serious fight. My dad had to be high on something—and as much as I hated him sometimes, a very small, very stupid part of me still loved him, and didn't want him getting into a fight with a bear.

"Shh," a calming voice hushed me, easing me back down. "Don't move, Scar."

"Paul?" I frowned, looking up into the face above me. It _was_ Paul—he was here, and he was holding me against him. He was having an unbelievably calming effect on me—the spinning had stopped. I was coming back to myself, the confusion ebbing away and being replaced by a cool, calm sort of logical thinking I always adapted after my father had hurt me. I pushed away from Paul, sitting up, shaking my head to clear it a little more. "Help me up?" I asked, holding my good arm out to him. He did as I asked, and supported me as I pulled the belt from around my waist.

"I'll get that," Paul offered, wrapping the belt around my arm above the cut and tying it tightly, cutting off the blood flow.

I didn't thank him—I didn't look at him. He'd seen the side of my life I'd hoped no one would ever have to see. I couldn't bear to look at him, to see his reaction, to see the disgust and pity written across his features. Would he still want to kiss me now that he knew?

"Dad!" I shouted, tearing my thoughts away from the boy before me and focusing them on the situation unfolding in my backyard. I ignored Paul's protest as I took a running start toward the window before jumping out over Emily's rosebushes and onto the lawn, rolling forward as I hit the ground. (Impressive, right? I'd taken a few gymnastics lessons when I was a kid.) "Dad, stop!" I exclaimed, getting between him and the creature before either of them could hurt each other.

"Oh, how sweet," my dad crooned. "Your baby sister's fighting your fights for you now, eh Samuel?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded, beginning to feel totally and completely pissed off. "You," I growled, pointing to my father. "You're supposed to be dead. Frankly, I'm starting to think I liked you better that way."

"You had to have known it would take more than a fire to get rid of me," my dad hissed, taking a step closer, flashing me a view of his teeth.

"Stay away from her," Paul growled, pushing me back behind him as he faced down my dad.

"Oh, is this the little boyfriend I've heard so much about?" my father mocked. "Well, Scar, I'm a little disappointed that he's the best you could do…although it's not much of a surprise, I suppose. I never could expect much out of a bitchy little whore like you, but even I thought you'd do better than this mutt when you finally tricked someone into thinking your worth something."

Although I only understood about half of them, he words stung. I'd heard my father call me those things before, sure, but that didn't make it hurt any less. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to run—to hide myself away from Paul and my father and anyone else witnessing my humiliation. But I couldn't. You don't run from bullies. You face them down. So I lifted my chin up a little higher and looked my father right in the eyes.

I was about to say something—probably something inspiring, a monologue perhaps, the kind that you find at the end of all of the cheesiest movies—but Paul beat me to it. Before I could say anything, there was a sickening crack, and my dad was lying on the ground, massaging his jaw. "Don't you _dare_ talk to her like that," Paul growled—literally, there was some kind of animalistic rumbling going on—his eyes narrowed dangerously as he stood over my father.

"Well, I think I've had enough fun for one day," my father winked in my direction as he pulled himself up off the ground, completely ignoring Paul. "I'll be back again soon, Sammy. But for now…you might want to have someone look at that window. Broken glass can be dangerous."

With a crazed laugh, he and Carlos ran like the wind toward the tree line, out into the forest. The giant creature—a wolf, I'd decided upon seeing it up close—bounded after the two of them. Two more wolves appeared from behind the garage and followed.

"Paul?" I asked, looking up to him with wide eyes, hoping he might have some sort of explanation as to what had just happened.

"Later," he promised me, brushing my cheek with his hand before leaning over to kiss my forehead. Then, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and began leading me back toward the house. "For now, let's get you fixed up."

* * *

><p>"You're going to be just fine, Scarlett," Dr. Cullen assured me with a smile as he finished pulling the last of the glass out of my legs. With a tiny set of tweezers, he'd managed to get even the smallest pieces of glass before they could work themselves too deep into my skin—I didn't know how he was even able to see some of the shards, much less extract them. "I'll write you a prescription for some light painkillers, and I want you to stay in bed for the next couple days. Can you do that?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.<p>

"Of course, Dr. Cullen," I gave him a small smile. "Do you know…well. How is Emily?"

Dr. Cullen gave me a smile. "Emily is going to be just fine. She's a little shaken up, a little bruised…but she's fine, the baby's fine. Sam's taking good care of her."

"Oh, thank God," I sighed, grinning as I heard the good news. When my father had mentioned Emily being pregnant…I hadn't quite processed what he'd said until much later, when I saw Jared carrying her into the house while Paul had called the doctor. Just knowing that she and my little niece or nephew were healthy…it made me want to hug someone.

"Take care, Scarlett," Dr. Cullen gave me a wink. "I hope we don't have to see each other any time soon."

I just laughed, shaking my head as he walked away. Dr. Cullen was a nice guy. His hands were super cold, and looking at him reminded me of seeing my dad again—their skin tone was the same, unnatural pale—but he was a nice guy nonetheless.

Soon, the smile faded from my lips as I thought about everything that had just happened to me. My supposedly dead father had developed some sort of unnatural strength (not to mention coloration), a giant wolf broke the window, and then my father proceeded to address that wolf as my big brother. I was wrong, of course, but at this point I was sure that things couldn't get much weirder than they were now.

* * *

><p>Later that afternoon, there was a knock on my door. My brain was a little foggy from the drugs the doctor had given me, so it took me a while to respond. "Come in," I called lazily after a moment. Sam opened the door and stepped in carefully, hesitantly, as if he were afraid I'd yell at him to leave. "Hey, big brother," I smiled at him as I tried to push myself into a sitting position without putting too much pressure on my injured arm.<p>

"Let me help you, kid," he offered, stepping closer.

"Nah, I've got this," I assured him. Pretty soon, I'd wiggled and maneuvered myself so that I could sit up comfortably. I grinned in success, making my brother laugh. "See? I'm graceful, like a ninja," I commented.

"Can I sit?" he asked cautiously. "I don't want to hurt you or anything…"

"I'm not made of glass, Sam," I snorted. "I've got a few cuts. That's it—I've had worse, believe me."

"I do," Sam nodded. "And…I'm sorry. I should have taken you away from him a long time ago, Scar. I…I guess I let you down."

He was right, of course. If he'd known what was happening…he should have done something. But then again, I should have done something sooner, too. I had my reasons for keeping my home life to myself—I had to assume Sam had his reasons, too. I loved my brother, I trusted him—which is why I had to lie to him. "It's okay," I shrugged. "You had your own problems to worry about."

"That's not an excuse, and you know it," he accused. "I could have gotten you out of there, and I didn't…but I swear I'm never going to let him take you away from me, okay? Emily and I…we're going to need you around the next couple of years," he added, a stupid grin crossing his face. "Did someone tell you? Emily's…"

"She's pregnant, yeah, I know," I nodded, grinning. "Congratulations!" I leaned over carefully and hugged him as tight as I could manage without hurting myself. "Sam…I'm so happy for you two," I smiled, pulling away to rest back against the pillows. "Seriously. You're going to be great parents, I know it."

"I hope so," Sam chuckled nervously.

"Mom would be…so proud of you," I added, taking Sam's hand as I flashed him a sad smile.

"I hope so," he said again. Then he added, "You know? You look like her. Like Mom. You've got the same hair, and the same eyes."

"Yeah," I nodded. I couldn't even tell you how many nights I'd sat in my room, pouring over old family photo albums of the four of us, back when everything was the way it was supposed to be, when we were happy. "I know."

"Hey. Are you feeling up to a bonfire tonight?" Sam asked, squeezing my hand. "I think we could both use a little pick me up."

I'd always loved the bonfires. The smell of the smoke mixed with the salty sea air, friends and family surrounding you, all listening to the stories of our ancestors while we roasted marshmallows and hot dogs and anything else we could find to put on a stick.

"Sam," I agreed, "I think that's exactly what we need."

* * *

><p><strong>Well, there you go. I know this chapter was kind of dark. Next chapter should be up soon, and will include an appropriate amount of frivolity to balance things out. :) Thanks for sticking with this everyone! <strong>


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. :)**

_Chapter Twelve_

_Scarlett's POV_

Around six, I finally pulled myself out of bed. I took a quick shower, carefully rewrapping my cuts when I was done before changing into a nice pair of jean shorts and a tank top—perfect for a warm summer night by the fire. I pulled my hair up into a pony tail, and I was ready to go.

When I entered the kitchen, Emily was toting two large, heavy looking baskets toward the car. "Do you need me to grab something, Em?" I offered, seeing her struggle.

"That would be marvelous, Scarlett," she smiled, allowing me to take one of the baskets from her. "Ah," she sighed, straightening her back a little as the weight was lifted from her hands. "Thank you, so much."

We took the loaded baskets of food out to Sam's Chevy. "Do we really need forty pounds of food, sweetheart?" Sam grunted as he hefted the two baskets into the back of the truck.

"You've seen the way those boys eat," Emily laughed.

"I can't argue with that," Sam admitted as he helped his fiancée into the car. He then proceeded to open the back door for me, offering me his arm as I climbed in the back seat. I couldn't help but giggle—Sam was so weird. "Now that I've got my two favorite ladies…let's go!" he grinned, winking at me in the rearview mirror as he started the truck.

Sam and Emily only lived about a two minutes' walk from the beach. If we hadn't had to cart all the food in the back of the truck, we wouldn't have bothered taking it. Before the three of us could even get a real conversation started, we were parking in the lot at the edge of the beach.

The three of us unloaded the truck, each grabbing a case of whatever Emily had deemed necessary to bring along with us. Emily was doing fine, but the cut on my midsection was screaming in protest as I carried the basket farther and farther down the beach. Pretty soon, I was starting to feel a little light headed. I set the basket down and took a few deep breaths.

I jumped a little (and may have even let out the tiniest of screams) when I felt a hand on my back. "It's just me, Scarlett," Paul laughed. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh…it's okay," I chuckled. "I've…well, I've always been a bit…paranoid, I guess."

"I can imagine," Paul murmured, eyeing the stitched up cut on my left arm.

"Paul…please, don't," I begged, suddenly irritated with him for the first time since we'd met. "I'm not hosting a pity party here, and if I were, you would not be invited."

"Well, what am I supposed to do, Scar?" he huffed in exasperation. "Pretend like it's okay? That may work for you, but it doesn't for me."

"I'm not pretending!" I defended myself. "I'm fine. People need to stop worrying about me so much." I added a little laugh, just to make myself sound at least a little believable. I could tell he was about to call my bluff, so I did the only thing I could think of—I kept talking. "Look…I'm sorry I snapped at you," I apologized. "This is supposed to be a party, and I don't want to fight with you, Paul."

"Scar…" he started to argue. But then he sighed, shaking his head. "Fine, I get it—you don't want to talk about it. But if you ever change your mind…"

I smiled, my heart melting for a moment. It felt so good to be cared about; I took his hand in mine and squeezed. "I know. Thanks."

Paul let go of my hand, reaching instead for the basket lying in the sand at my feet. We began walking, the basket between us making me a little uneasy. He seemed…distant. He wasn't talking the way he normally did, he wouldn't look me in the eyes.

What if seeing that side of me—the broken side, the scarred side, the side my father had revealed—what if seeing me like that had changed how he thought about me? What if he thought I was weak? Pathetic? I didn't think I could take that.

"Paul? Is everything okay?" I asked him, my heart pounding, waiting for the worst.

"What?" he asked, blinking as he turned toward me.

"Are you okay?" I repeated patiently. "You're acting weird."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," I nodded suspiciously. "Paul, what is it? If seeing the way my dad was with me this afternoon freaked you out, I get it. I just…I don't want that to make things awkward with us." God, I hope I didn't sound too desperate. I was clinging onto Paul with all I had at this point, praying he still saw me as the same girl he'd kissed in Sam's driveway just that afternoon.

"Oh, God, no," he assured me quickly, horrified. He dropped the basket, taking my hands in his as he looked me in the eye and told me exactly what I needed to hear. "As far as you and I go…what happened with your dad? That meant nothing. What you've been through…it sucks, but it is never going to come between you and me. Okay?" His hand came up to my cheek, and the heat of it washed through me like hot chocolate on a snowy day.

"Thank you," I murmured, the unexpected sweetness of his response making me blush. I couldn't look him in the eye—I couldn't let him see how much his comment meant to me, how much he meant to me. I didn't want to scare the poor guy.

Almost as soon as we arrived at the party, Paul was dragged off to help carry firewood. Emily recruited me soon after, and found me a job preparing the food for everyone. With everybody helping—the guys gathering wood and the women preparing the food—all the work was finished quickly.

It was still light out—too early to light the fire and start the stories. Jared brought out a football, and he and the other boys began a game of touch football on the beach. The Quileute elders were sitting together in their folding chairs, gossiping, while the younger children made sand castles, gleefully cheering as the tide rolled in and made them a nice little moat.

After a while, Kim arrived, nearly tackling me in a bone-crushing hug. "Can't…breathe," I huffed as she hugged me.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! Are you okay?" she gushed, holding me out at arm's length. "I heard about what happened today, with your dad! Oh my God, that had to have been SO scary!"

"Kim, chill. I'm okay," I smiled, grateful for a friend who cared as much as she did.

"I also heard that Paul punched your dad in the face," she grinned, taking my arm and leading me toward the ocean shore. "Now _that_, I would have paid to see."

"It was…pretty impressive," I admitted with a blush. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for someone to do that."

"Oh, I know, sweetheart," she sighed, wrapping an arm around me and hugging me again. "This has got to be awful for you. I mean, for your dad to pop up out of nowhere like this…I think we were all happier when he was dead."

"It's…confusing," I confessed. "So many things happened…it was impossible. I must have imagined parts of it, it just doesn't make sense. And nobody will talk about it. I mean, I thought I heard Emily and Sam whispering earlier, but…they go silent when I enter the room. They're all keeping something from me, even Paul."

"Sam doesn't like to keep secrets," Kim reminded me. "He must have a reason for keeping you in the dark on…whatever his secret is. Be patient. If it's important, he'll tell you eventually."

"I know that," I nodded. I knew my brother well enough to know how hard it was for him to keep secrets—especially from me. We'd always told each other everything when we were growing up. He'd been my best and most trusted confidant. "But still…ugh! We've got to talk about something else, Kim, or I'm going to hurt someone. How's Jared?"

"Jared's…Jared," she grinned.

"That's it? All you can say is that he is himself?"

"Yeah…that's pretty much it," she nodded, grinning.

"Well, that was maddeningly unhelpful," I muttered under my breath.

At that moment, I saw a brown, spinning shape in the distance. It kept getting closer and closer, and I couldn't figure out why…but then, it hit me.

* * *

><p>"Oh, my God, Jared! You killed my best friend!" Kim was screeching. This was followed by several loud smacking noises and cries of astonishment.<p>

"Scar? Scarlett, can you hear me? Wake up, Scar." Paul?

I blinked in surprise as I regained consciousness, sitting up slowly in the sand to look around at all the people standing worriedly over me. "Umm…" I looked down in my lap to find a large brown football. They'd hit me in the face with a football? How rude! But I was feeling okay—the world wasn't blurry, or anything, so I guess I wasn't going to go into a coma and die. Not liking the worry I was seeing etched across Paul's face as he knelt beside me in the sand, I held up the football so that they could see, and called out sheepishly, "I caught it!"

Paul took the ball, laughing, and offered me his hand. I took it, and he pulled me up out of the sand. "I guess you're feeling okay," he chuckled as he helped me wipe the sand off my back.

"Yeah," I laughed. "Surprised, mostly. Did it knock me out?"

"For about a minute, yeah," he frowned. "Someone needs to talk to Jared about his aim."

I looked down the beach toward the screaming I'd heard when I woke up—Kim was chasing her boyfriend down the shore, smacking him repeatedly with a large piece of driftwood. "I think Kim's taken care of that, Paul," I laughed.

"I guess so," he smiled. "Come on…you really should sit down for a little while."

"Paul, I'm fine," I argued. "It's just a little bump on the head."

"Who bumped you on the head?" Sam interjected suddenly.

"Jared threw a football at her," Paul explained.

"Paul!" I exclaimed, smacking his arm. "Don't encourage him! Sam, it's nothing. I wasn't paying attention, and I got smacked in the face with a football. It happens to the best of us. I'm fine, I'm not dead or dying, so let it go."

"He hit my baby sister in the face with a football. I'm not going to just let it go," Sam chuckled, winking at me as he took off toward where Jared was still being attacked by my best friend.

"Seriously?" I asked the universe. "Is this actually happening right now?"

"You should sit down, Scar," Paul tried to convince me yet again.

"Nope," I argued. "Not gonna happen. I'm not going to be the one lame teenager sitting alone by a pile of wood. I'm going to go chill over there with those guys," I pointed a thumb over my shoulder where the littlest children on the reservation were playing happily in the sand, "and I am going to build the world's most fantastic sand castle."

An hour later, I was putting the finishing touches on my masterpiece. "And now…the tower," I grinned, dumping a handful of wet sand onto the top of my creation. "You can't have a castle without a tower, you know," I whispered conspiratorially to one of the small children—a little girl named Rosie who had proudly announced to me earlier that she was three and one half years old—who had gathered around to watch me work my castle magic. "Where else would they keep the damsel in distress?"

Rosie giggled maniacally, nearly bouncing up and down with excitement. "Now, we mold the sand like this," I murmured as I wrapped my hands around the sand, shaping it so that it stood taller and straighter, like I'd stuck a pole straight through the castle. I then rounded off the top of the tower, and used my fingernails to carve in the details—a window, a few bricks, steps leading up to the top of the tower that were perfect for gazing at stars on clear nights. "And it's perfect," I sighed, sitting back on my heels to admire my work.

"Wow," the kids gasped as the tide rolled in, filling up my moat with a salty river. "Look! An alligator for your moat!" one of the kids exclaimed gleefully, pointing out a small animal that had been swept into the moat. "It's a starfish!" another kid cried happily. "Look how pretty it is!"

We all admired the star fish for a while, but then it was time to start the real party. The fire had been lit, and food was being passed around. Soon enough, the stories would start—and nobody wanted to miss those. The kids' parents came to get them, and eventually it was only me and Paul left on the beach.

"You're really good with castles, you know," Paul mentioned as he leaned back on his hands. "And kids," he added, his eyes sparkling just a little as he watched me blush at the compliments.

"I used to be one, you know," I teased him.

"Yeah…yeah, me too," he nodded distractedly. "I think they're getting ready to start," he announced, pulling himself up out of the sand and offering me his hand. I took it, and we headed back toward the fire.

"Scar! There you are!" Sam called when I came into view. He waved me over, gesturing to a seat between him and Kim. I sat down, glad to be wanted.

"I'm not moving," Kim announced to Paul as she clung to mine and Jared's arms. "Just so you know."

"Believe me, I know," Paul replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Sorry," I apologized as he made his way toward the other side of the fire. He just gave me a playful sort of wink before he turned around and walked toward an open seat.

I loved listening to the tribe stories. They'd always had an almost magical quality about them—they pulled me back to a happier time, back to my childhood, when my family was whole and we loved one another; before the pain, before the heartache, and before the scars.

All too soon, Billy had finished. We all applauded him, and then prepared to leave. Families waved goodbye as they trekked off through the forest—either for home or the parking lot. Sam and I always left at the end of the stories; I got up to leave, but Sam pulled me back down.

"Let's stay for just a little while, Scar," he suggested, his eyes somewhat pleading in a way that scared me just a little.

"Is everything okay?" I asked him, hesitant as I sat back down.

"Everything's fine, sweetheart," Emily assured me, resting a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Soon, there were only a few families left—mine, the Blacks, the Clearwaters, and the group of boys that always seemed to hover around Sam's place. Something felt off to me. The mood had shifted when I wasn't paying attention—it had gone from fun, playful, and exciting, to a deathly sort of seriousness that I hadn't thought was capable for some of the people here. I was beginning to notice people watching me, looking worried and apprehensive. It was, in all honesty, starting to freak me out a little.

"Seriously, Sam…what's going on?" I whispered. "Why is everybody staring at me?"

"Guys?" Sam sighed, turning toward the group expectantly. "We talked about this. I need to have a family discussion real quick, okay?"

"We are family," Seth Clearwater grinned, wrapping an eager arm around my neck and pulling me in for a hug.

"No, Seth," Leah murmured, pulling her brother off me. "He's right. We'll be close by if you need us, Sam," she nodded to my brother before leaving the beach. Soon after, everyone else followed, until it was just my brother, Emily…and Paul.

Emily and Sam looked at Paul, seeming confused as he took a seat next to me and refused to move. After a bit of a stare down, Emily rested her hand on her fiancée's shoulder. "Go ahead, Sam," she prompted my brother, who seemed to have—for the first time in his life—lost any and all ability to communicate.

"Scar…I've been keeping secrets from you," Sam began, looking nervous. Emily gave his hand a squeeze, and he took a deep breath before continuing. "After what happened today…I figured it was about time we brought you into the loop."

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><p><strong>Cliffy;) BWAHAHAHA! I'll have the next chapter up soon! Thanks for the support- you guys rock. :)<strong>


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. **

**OH MY GOSH. **

**I have no excuses. I'm the worst person ever. I didn't realize I'd left off with that particular cliffhanger! That was really mean of me, and I'm so, SO sorry! I've dusted off this story a little, so hopefully more updates in the foreseeable future:)**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen<strong>

Bringing me "into the loop" turned out to be a lot more complicated than I would have originally thought. Sam's explanation of the supernatural events that had happened that afternoon left me staring down at my hands in shock as I struggled to process everything.

"You're telling me the stories are real?" I clarified, my stomach churning as I thought about what this could mean. "If this is some sort of prank or something…I swear I'll kill you, Sam."

"I know it's impossible to believe, but he's telling the truth, Scarlett," Paul murmured gently, his hand inching closer to mine, but not quite close enough. He'd been grabbing my hand in the hallway all week—what was the problem now? Was he that afraid of my big brother?

I looked to Emily—my rock; the constant, stable figure in my life. She nodded slowly, giving me a shaky sort of smile as she did so, and I could tell she was afraid of what I was thinking. Did I think they were all crazy? Did I even believe them?

Well…Paul did have a point. It was impossible to believe. Werewolves? Vampires? Here, in Forks? It was ridiculous. It was all something out of a bad horror movie…yet even Paul was going along with it. So, it either had to be the most pathetic prank I'd ever been witness to…

Or they were telling the truth.

As I took all this in, the wheels in my head were turning. Everything was spinning around me as I thought about what all this meant…and it was too much. Between Paul's kiss, getting attacked by my supposedly dead father, and now this…it was way too much for me. My brain was on overload, and it was suddenly difficult for me to breathe.

"Scar," my brother pleaded, grabbing my hand suddenly in his own. The heat of his hand swallowing mine gave me another jolt of reality—and I suddenly realized that everything he was saying was all too painfully true. "Scar, please say something."

What was I supposed to say to this? All this time I'd been thinking…I hadn't been worried about my own sanity. This craziness wasn't the cause for the shuddering chill tiptoeing up my spine.

"Werewolves kill vampires," I murmured at last. My stomach was churning—I couldn't believe the conclusion I'd just reached. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be true! Could it? I was starting to feel light headed. My hands were shaking, and everything was fuzzy, except for the gruesome, awful idea that had just sprung into my thoughts.

"You're going to kill him," I accused as I caught Sam's eye, my voice little more than a whisper as I stood up shakily, backing away from my brother.

"Yes," he admitted. He didn't drop his gaze, he didn't falter—he meant what he said, 100%.

"Sam!" I gasped, my hand flying up to cover my mouth. "He's our father!"

"He _was_ our father," Sam corrected me. "Come on, Scar. You should know better than anyone by now that our father's been dead for years."

"No," I argued, shaking my head. "People can change, Sam. When Mom died…"

"It was hard for all of us when Mom died," Sam growled. "You've got to stop making excuses for him! He's dangerous! And it's not just you he's hurting anymore, Scar. He nearly killed Paul the other night."

"Sam, don't," Paul hushed my brother as a shudder shook me.

"Is that what was wrong?" I asked, looking up at Paul. "The day you collapsed in class?"

"I…I had a few fractured ribs," he admitted hesitantly with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. "We heal fast," he hastily added when he saw my horrified expression. "Don't worry about it, Scar."

"My point is," Sam interrupted with an irritated sigh, "these boys—my pack—we risk our lives to keep people safe. Dad's a liability to the safety of everyone here."

"I know you, Sam," I whispered, not looking at my brother. "I know how you feel about him, about everything he's done…but he's our father," I sighed, running a hand through my hair the way I did when I was stressing out. "He…he raised us. Him and Mom. You won't be able to kill him any more than I could have."

"If Sam doesn't do it, the rest of us will," Paul sighed sadly. "It's got to happen, Scarlett."

"Why?" I asked in a soft undertone that was barely audible. I squeezed my eyes shut, letting wet tears roll down my cheeks.

"Because he wants to kill you," Paul reminded me bluntly, taking my hand in his and sending the butterflies in my stomach on a rampage. "And I'm sure as hell not going to let that happen."

No. He did not get to use his good looks and warm hands and overall adorableness to get me to calm down and lose sight of what I wanted. It wasn't going to happen, no way. I was stronger than that…or, at least, I used to be, a few weeks ago when I was living with Dad and being strong was really my only option.

"I'm not going to just…just stand by and let you kill him," I warned, pulling my hand away from Paul and standing up, backing away from the fire as I turned toward my brother. "I am not going to be your excuse, Sam."

One thing I must have picked up from Dad—I was the deadliest when I was calm. Sure, Dad could hit me pretty hard when he was drunk…but sober? His aim was near perfect, and he'd always kept himself in good shape. When his head was clear…you needed to watch out.

That's how I was now. I wasn't about to start throwing punches or anything, but suddenly, everything was crystal clear to me. I knew my brother was telling the truth about what he was. I knew my father was a vampire, and I knew he was going to try and kill me sooner or later. And I knew that Sam and his pack were going to kill Dad if I didn't do something to stop it.

"Scar, please, calm down," Sam murmured, coming closer with his hands outstretched, as if trying not to scare me. He'd seen the way Dad kept his rage carefully in check, just beneath the surface, and he recognized that in me—a barely controlled ball of white-hot anger. "This is…a lot to take in," Sam continued. "You need a glass of water, a good night's sleep, and we'll talk about this in the morning. Okay?"

"I'm not stupid, Sam," I hissed, crossing my arms over my chest and giving my brother a stare down. "He'll be dead by morning."

"I don't know what you want me to do," Sam confessed, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'm not going to let him hurt you again, Scarlett. I'm not going to let him hurt anyone else, either. If he were like the Cullens, if he didn't want to cause trouble…I'd let it go. But Scar—he's not harmless. He's already become a problem."

"You talk about him like he's livestock," I muttered indignantly.

"Scar," my brother huffed.

We stood there, face to face, toe to toe—just like when we were younger. We stared at each other, eyes narrowed, waiting for the other to break. Never in my entire life had I been the one to back down and fall apart. Not when my dad was wailing on me, not when the kids at school talked about me, and especially not now.

"You are so immature," he growled, tearing his gaze away at last, turning to face the ocean, taking deep, calming breaths.

"Sam?"

When he didn't respond, my heart fell down to my stomaching and tears sprung to my eyes. We'd fought before—all siblings did—but never about something like this. Dad had caused so many arguments between the two of us over the years, but Sam had always been the one to cave. He'd always been the one to hug me, say he was sorry. What if I'd finally pushed him too far? I couldn't bear the thought of Sam being mad at me—he was the only family I had left.

I took a step toward him, but Paul pulled me back. "Careful," he murmured a warning.

But I shook my head, gently pulling myself away, and wrapped my arms around my big brother's waist. "Sam won't hurt me," I stated, knowing in my heart that it was true. With a sigh, Sam turned around and hugged me back.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, breathing in the smell of his shirt. He'd always had a woodsy sort of smell to him—now I knew why. He was in the woods, all the time. The clean smell of dirt mixed with the salty sea breeze was nice. It was homey.

"I know, kid," he nodded. "So am I…but it's still got to happen. You know that, don't you? Someone has to die—Dad or you. I'm picking Dad."

"I know you haven't given up," I shrugged. "But neither have I. And I'm not going to either, Sam."

"You always were a stubborn little thing," he chuckled, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"Strong as an ox, stubborn as a mule," I smiled ruefully as I repeated one of Dad's favorite sayings.

"Yeah," he sighed. He guided me toward the log we'd been sitting on earlier, and we both sat. "Let's try to work something out, for now," he suggested, meeting my gaze. "Something temporary," he emphasized. "And only because I'm convinced you want to let Dad live because you haven't quite wrapped your head around how dangerous he is yet."

"I know how dangerous he is," I muttered under my breath. "He's already killed two people, Sam."

"Then why are you protecting him?"

I couldn't answer him. I took a moment to think about it…but the more I thought, the more confused I became. Why was I protecting him? I loved him. He was my father—I had to. It was programmed in me from my birth. But he was killing people; good people, innocent people. I knew that Sam would go after Dad as soon as I gave the order…but I just couldn't let myself be the one to let him die. I couldn't bear to be the one to sign his execution order. Not my own father. "You won't kill Dad," I instructed Sam at last, my decision made for now.

"I won't kill him yet," Sam amended. "But you have to do something for me, Scar."

"What?" I sighed, knowing I was about to sign my soul over to the devil to save Dad's life. Sam wasn't going to make this easy for me—I knew that. He wanted me to give up, to give in, and to let him murder my dad. But I didn't plan on doing any of those things any time soon.

"I don't want you in the forest alone, ever," he demanded. "I mean it. If you're in the forest at all, I want one of my boys with you. Can you handle that?"

I rolled my eyes. Was that the best he could do? "Sure, Sam. I can handle that," I responded obediently, knowing my brother could change his mind any second.

"That includes sneaking up to school in the mornings," Sam warned me. "That has to stop."

I don't think I'd ever been more surprised in my life. How had Sam known about that?

"I'm not completely oblivious, Scar," Sam sighed, reading the shock in my expression with practiced ease. "My hearing's a little above average, and you're not nearly as quiet as you think you are."

"Sam…I _have_ to go up to school early. I can't just…No. This is not okay," I gasped, going into a bit of a panic. Music kept me sane. The school's piano was the only one I had access to. What would happen when I couldn't play anymore? I would go crazy.

For a moment, I remembered what it felt like, before I'd found music. I remembered the pain of my mother's loss, a brand-new, fresh, gaping hole in my heart that couldn't be filled. I remembered the first time my father hit me. The first time he'd called a bitch, a slut, a whore. Everything was so sharp back then, so cutting and biting and empty.

And I could never tell anybody. My mother was dead, my brother had enough to deal with…and my father was all I had left. I couldn't lose him, the way I'd lost everyone else.

And so I'd drowned.

I didn't want to go back to that. I liked being me, a girl with a personality and feelings. A girl capable of getting nervous around a cute boy she liked—a girl capable of being happy despite everything else. Without my music…I would cease to be myself.

Sam just didn't understand.

"No, Scar. It's simply too dangerous for you to be walking alone in the woods right now. If Dad's out there…he'll look for any opportunity to hurt you," Sam reminded me.

"Sam, please," I begged. "Don't."

"If I catch you sneaking out again," Sam warned me, "I'll kill him, I swear to God."

So it was done. I couldn't play anymore—not the way I needed to. Once school was out…I would become the shell I'd been before. The thought terrified me. I didn't want to give up my self, but that was what Sam was forcing me to do. Give up who I was to save the man who'd made me this way.

"Cry all you want, kid, but I'm not moving on this," Sam announced.

I hadn't even realized I was crying. I wiped furiously at my eyes before Paul or Emily could see the evidence my tears were attempting to leave behind. "Just go," I said after a moment. Sam offered me his hand, but I shook it away and got up myself. Sam shrugged, and started toward the parking lot.

"Emily, you and Sam should go home," I sniffed, giving her the best smile I could manage. "Sam and I…we both need some time to calm down, or we'll be right back at each other's throats. I'll be home in an hour, I promise."

"I'll take care of her, Emily," Paul assured her.

"I know you will," she said with a knowing smile. Then she turned to me, and hugged me tight. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Sam…he doesn't want to hurt you, Scar. He loves you."

"Yeah, I know," I nodded. "I know how hard he's trying, Em."

"I'll see you back at the house," she smiled, kissing my forehead before catching up to Sam.

Once they were gone, I collapsed back on the sand in a huff. Not bothering with the sand I knew was going to get into every crevice and crack it could find in my clothes, I laid down and stared up at the stars. Without skipping a beat, Paul was next to me on the sandy ground.

"Are you okay?" Paul asked.

"I'm fine," I nodded. "I'm just being overdramatic, is all. I'll get over it—just give me a second."

"That's the second time tonight you've tried that bullshit on me," he reminded me gently. "It might work on the others, but it's not going to work on me, Scar."

"Well, pretend, then," I instructed, "because you're not getting anything else out of me. Not tonight."

He thought about it for a moment, and let out a heavy sigh. "Fair enough," he agreed.

"Hey, Paul?"

"Yeah?" he acknowledged, sliding an arm behind my head.

I breathed in his smell before continuing. It…reminded me of Sam, a little. It was woodsy—earth, salt. But there was something else there that was all his own. Clover? Cinnamon? It could have been anything. But it was still very nearly intoxicating. "Can I ask you something?"

"Ask away."

I bit my lip a little nervously. I'd remembered something, something during Sam's explanation of werewolves. I hadn't given it much attention, since Sam had only mentioned it in passing, saying that it didn't really apply to me anyway. Now I wasn't so sure.

But I had to know.

"Why are you so afraid of Sam?"

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><p><strong>Reviews are welcome! <strong>


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